A Life of Rebellion
by Murkatroyd
Summary: Story to be rebooted under title "The Struggle Within". Reboot on temporary hiatus.
1. Chapter 1: A Duo of Renegades

A/N: Story Name: A Life of Rebellion

A/N: Letters, thoughts, Parseltongue, and some other forms of writing in this story will be written in Italics.

Summary: At the age of six, a young boy runs away from his negligent and cruel relatives. He becomes a thief, an assassin and a renegade in the war between Light and Dark. With his loving companion at his side, a battle-scarred Harry Potter searches for the truth, and the secret of his past.

Disclaimer: JKR owns the series as a whole, I own the fanfic-made and self-created modifications in this story in particular.

**Chapter 1: A Duo of Renegades**

He was running. Running as fast as he possibly could. The usual cries of '_STOP! POLICE!_' rang out from behind him, but he didn't care. He'd be damned if he would be caught at this point, especially by Muggles. He had a mission to complete, and he would complete it.

If he had to kill a few Muggles to do that, then so be it.

His jet-black hair, just brushing his shoulders in length, rippled behind his head, and his black cloak flapped around his legs as he ran down the alley. He heard loud footsteps behind him and knew that one of the Muggle policemen was catching up. Frowning a little, he pulled out a foot-long black wand and aimed it over his shoulder. A red jet of light shot from it; whether or not it made contact with the blue-clad Muggle, he didn't know.

He reached a ladder running up the length of a wall and jumped onto it, climbing as quickly as he had ran. The stone in his pocket slipped out, but he caught it between his fingers. When he was within four feet of the top of the wall, he swung from the ladder, throwing himself upwards, and jumped the rest of the way. He did not stop when he landed, but continued to run. Jumping from roof-top to roof-top, using his magic to increase his jumping lengths, he stopped at the ledge of a narrow roof, looking down. He saw flashing lights and knew that the remaining policemen were following him by vehicle.

_Fools,_ he thought to himself, a sneer crossing his face.

He pulled out his wand again, pointed it at one of the cars, and the car burst into flames. Stowing his wand back into its holster strapped to his waist, he ran down the rest of the roof. He needed to find the Apparition point, because he knew that if he Disapparated now, it would only cause an uproar if he was seen, and his mission was to be as stealthy as possible while he took part in the robbery.

'Not that the stealth part matters now, with the police chasing me down,' he muttered to himself darkly, his green eyes blazing a little.

Reaching the end of the roof, he jumped, diving to the ground below. He pulled out his wand again and pointed it at a nearby ledge, and a grappling rope shot from it, connected with the ledge and swung him towards a nearby balcony. He jumped to it, letting the rope fall from his wand, and entered the house with a wordless Unlocking Charm.

His masked face scanned the room, taking in any possible hiding spots he could wait in before the police finally moved to another sector of the area. An odd noise was ringing through the house, and he wondered what it was. Before he could think about it further, however, the door to the room opened and a man ran into it. His eyes widened immediately, staring at the masked young man before him. Green eyes met brown.

'Who the hell are you?' the man shouted. 'How did you get into my house?'

_Muggles_, he thought with a sneer, and he flicked his wand. The man rose into the air, his arms snapping to his sides and his legs snapping together.

'I need a place to hide, Muggle,' he said in a deep, ringing voice. 'Your police are after me, and they don't appreciate the robbery, nor do they like the fact that I destroyed one of their cars.' The man's eyes widened further in fright, but he said nothing and nor did he scream. 'Can you give me a place to hide, Muggle? The alternative is death.'

Yes, the alternative option for his unintentional victims was always death. Quick and painless, carried by one simple flash of green light.

'T-There's a spot in the basement, two floors down from here,' said the man hurriedly, scared for his life now. He revolved a little in midair, but the youth did not lower his wand. 'P-Please, just put m-me down!'

The youth obliged, letting the man fall to the ground. He kept his wand pointed at the man, and said, 'Lead me.'

The man didn't move; he seemed paralyzed with fear.

The youth made to repeat his command, but the sirens were growing louder. It was then that the youth remembered that Muggles had alarms on their houses. _So that's what that annoying sound was._

'I can't stay here anymore, then,' said the youth angrily. 'They're already on their way. This makes you useless to me, Muggle.'

The man tore from the room, but before he crossed the threshold of the doorway, a green jet of light hit him in the back, and he crumpled to the ground, dead even before his body touched the floor. The youth jumped over his body and flew down the stairs, blasting the door open with a flick of his wand. He ran into the street to see half a dozen police cars forming a semi-circle around him and the house, blocking any chance of running.

'You are surrounded!' yelled one of the policemen into a microphone, who was standing in the middle of the semi-circle. 'Drop your weapons and put your hands up, or we will shoot!'

The youth smiled to himself, knowing full well that they would shoot, and hardly caring; he had been shot at before, even hit once in the side by a bullet. It was as nothing to him, not after what he had felt in his past.

His past ... He could not think about that now, not when he was being confronted by the Muggle authorities.

'This is your last chance! Drop your weapon and put your hands up!'

Smirking now, he bent down slowly, and began lowering his wand to the ground in a slow motion. Then, when he knew he had the policemen fooled, he slashed upwards with his wand, and a force that had similar power to a wind storm flew forwards, blowing both policemen and cars backwards.

'Serves you right, fools!' the youth shouted, and he ran for his life, dodging between cars and other obstacles in the road. He heard more sirens but did not look back; one of the police cars was following him. Letting his magic flow freely, he used it to enhance his running speed, and flew gracefully down the road. At the end of the road he spun around and pointed his wand at the oncoming car, which was closing in now.

'_Confringo!_' he shouted into the night.

The car had just come within ten feet of him when it exploded like a bomb: debris and twisted metal flew through the air. He raised a shield wordlessly, letting the pieces of the car hit the shield without damage to himself. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the flaming wreckage of the car, where a body, maimed and disfigured, lay within it. Ten years ago he might have been disgusted and even afraid of the sight, but now he knew better.

He dropped the shield, ran into a nearby alleyway and held the stone he had come to steal tightly in his hand before he Disapparated from the Muggle area and the sirens of the police.

* * *

One hundred miles away, in a town not far from Godric's Hollow, a young woman sat on the couch, twirling her wand between her fingers, waiting for her partner to return. Long, red hair rippled down her back overtop a black dressing gown. Her brown eyes were narrowed, and she was growing impatient. The mission, surely, could not be taking this long. It was so simple: enter the premises, steal the stone, kill the man using it if necessary, and return. It had been four hours since he had left, and she was beginning to lose her patience with the time and her partner, as well as feel a hint of worry.

A door opened and slammed shut, and she heard footsteps. Ginny Weasley looked up to see a masked man wearing a long black cloak enter the room. He pulled off his mask and threw it in a nearby corner, sitting down in a couch opposite her, looking a little tired. He ran his hands through his black hair wearily.

After a few moments, Ginny spoke.

'Did you get the stone?' Her tone was purely business-like; she knew he'd understand.

'Yes,' replied Harry Potter, putting a hand into his pocket and pulling out a blood-red stone. 'The Philosopher's Stone is now safely in our possession.'

He held the Stone up into the dim light of the room. It seemed to glow in his hand, as though the room was shining blindingly bright.

Ginny smiled and stood up, walking over to sit beside him. She leaned into him a little, and he smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Together, they looked at the Stone, which Harry set down on the table in front of them. It continued to glow brightly.

'What was it that the Stone does, anyway?' Ginny asked after a few minutes, her gaze never leaving the blood-red object in front of her.

'According to that documentary Flamel made, it makes the possessor immortal,' Harry replied, also keeping his eyes fixed on the Philosopher's Stone. 'Dark wizards would love this, wouldn't they? That's why we can't leave it there, not when it's just sitting there, waiting to be stolen by any passing Dark wizard.'

'Like us, you mean?' Ginny said, smirking a little as she turned her head to face Harry.

He flinched a little, but kept his face blank.

'Yeah,' he said finally a few minutes later. 'Like us.' He felt strange saying it. He had long ago accepted the fact that he had to do bad things to stay alive and to complete his little missions, but he didn't like thinking of himself as a Dark wizard.

After all, it was the Muggles' fault, completely and totally. They were all the same, united in their stupidity and cruelty, and he would never, ever forgive them ...

_(Flashback)_

_It was dark outside, possibly no later than nine o'clock. The house was ringing with the sound of a man's yelling. In the dining room, a young boy with messy black hair cowered in front of a large man, who towered over him. The man was as wide as he was tall, and he was yelling at the boy._

_'HOW DARE YOU TELL LIES TO THAT SCHOOL ABOUT US, YOU LITTLE BRAT!' roared the man, saliva flying from his large mouth. The boy continued to cower, tears falling from his eyes. 'HOW DARE YOU LIE TO THEM! HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT WE MISTREAT YOU, BOY!'_

_The boy's cries turned into screams, tears falling faster._

_'STOP YOUR WHIMPERING, YOU LITTLE RAT!' screamed the man._

_'I-I'm sorry, Uncle V-Vernon!' the boy cried. 'I-I was just s-so s-scared! I d-didn't mean t-to s-say anything –'_

_'BUT YOU DID!' shouted Vernon, 'AND NOW THEY'RE MAKING AN INQUIRY ABOUT US! YOU'RE IN FOR IT NOW, BOY! YOU'RE GETTING TWO WEEKS IN THE CUPBOARD FOR THIS!'_

_'No! NO! Please, Uncle, please no!'_

_The woman in the kitchen was watching the scene, helping neither side, and the boy looked at her pleadingly, asking for help using his eyes, but she turned away, apparently unable to look at him. He cried out._

_'Please, Aunt Petunia! Please don't make me go to the cupboard! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!'_

_Petunia did not reply, and nor did she turn around. As Vernon dragged the boy away towards the cupboard under the stairs, he thought he saw, even in his hysterical behaviour, a tear fall from Petunia's eye. When he turned again, however, her face was blank and dry and her eyes were closed._

_'Please, Uncle Vernon! Please don't make me go there! I promise I'll be good, I promise I'll do better! I'll do extra chores! Please –'_

_Vernon continued dragging the boy to the cupboard, oblivious to the boy's terror and crying, and threw open the cupboard door. He tossed the boy inside. The boy cried harder and harder, knowing what was coming, as Vernon reached up to the ceiling of the cupboard and pulled down a large strap, which was attached to the ceiling. He quickly lashed it around the boy's arms, forcing them over his head._

_'PLEASE!' screamed the boy. 'PLEASE! ANYTHING BUT THIS!'_

_He tugged at the bonds around his tiny, five-year-old wrists, but the belt was tight and did not loosen its hold. Vernon gave an evil smile and closed the cupboard door, locking it behind him. The boy's screams were forgotten and dulled by the door, and within minutes, the boy had fallen silent._

_(End Flashback)_

Harry shook his head of the memory, using all his concentration and Occlumency training to force it back into the back of his mind. He hated dwelling on the thoughts of his life when he was living with the Muggles. They had been nothing short of cruel.

All because he was a wizard, something he had learned about not long after he had run away.

Harry sighed contently. It had been his greatest pleasure to confront his Muggle relatives as a teenager, when he had already delved into magic and become a powerful sorcerer in his own right. He had been fifteen years old that day, the day he had confronted his relatives ...

_(Flashback)_

_Harry was walking down a street called Privet Drive, a street he had not been on in nine years. Quickly putting himself under a Disillusionment Charm that made him nearly invisible, he let his cloak flap around his ankles as he walked up to his destination: number four, Privet Drive. He had a score to settle._

_Walking up the drive, he noted that nothing seemed to have changed. The thought made him sneer slightly._

_He stepped onto the threshold and knocked on the door. After waiting five seconds, he raised a wand slightly different from his own and flicked it, blasting the door open._

_'What the hell –' spluttered a man's voice, and Harry remembered the voice of the man who had, ten years ago, made his life hell: Vernon Dursley. He sneered, walking into the house he loathed so much. Everything was the same, everything was as he remembered it._

_This disgusted him greatly. Nothing remained to show that he had lived here at all._

_'Vernon? What's going on? What's happened?' a woman's voice shrieked, and Harry recalled, with notably less fury, the memory of his aunt, Petunia Dursley. Continuing to walk forwards, he entered the kitchen, where his aunt and cousin were standing, frozen by the sound of the exploding door. He leaned against the wall furthest from them, crossing his arms. These stupid Muggles really were hopeless._

_There was a thundering noise and Vernon Dursley burst into the kitchen._

_'Petunia? Dudders? Are you all right?' he asked._

_'We're fine,' said Petunia in a high-pitched voice. 'But what happened to the door?'_

_'I happened,' whispered the youth, unfolding his arms and raising the wand again. Flicking it, he forced the table to rise into the air, hovering three feet above the ground. Flicking it again, he let it drop and break, the legs rolling away. Dudley fell backwards, Petunia screamed, and Vernon dived to the floor, covering his head._

_'WHO'S THERE?' Vernon roared. 'SHOW YOURSELF!'_

_'Gladly,' said Harry, and with another flick of the stolen wand, he let the Disillusionment Charm fall, showing himself to the Muggles. Nearly a decade on his own had changed him; he stood at a few inches taller than his uncle, and towering over his cousin. His black hair fell over his eyes, and for a moment, Vernon seemed unable to recognize him._

_'Who are you?' Petunia screamed. 'How did you get in here? Did you destroy our door?'_

_'I did,' said Harry in a low voice. 'I also levitated your kitchen table. I never did like that table, really. Ugly thing to eat off of, Petunia, ugly thing indeed.'_

_Petunia looked scared now; she still did not recognize the teenager in front of her, and with a second to stop and think, Harry decided he couldn't blame her: he looked much different physically._

_'Who are you?' Vernon demanded, looking angry now. 'Who do you think you are, breaking into our house?'_

_'Well,' said Harry in a voice dripping with cold sarcasm in every syllable, 'I think I'm someone you know quite well, Vernon. In fact, I daresay you know me far better than you think.' He flicked his hair out of his eyes with a jerk of his head, and his emerald green eyes shined out of them. Petunia shrieked and Dudley swore at the top of his voice. 'Recognize me now, Vernon?'_

_Vernon's face had turned purple._

_'It's you,' he hissed. 'That little shit we were left with a long time ago. We thought you'd died when you ran away. No skin off my nose – once a nuisance piece of crap, always –'_

_Vernon broke off in mid-sentence at the sight of Harry's wand pointed directly at his chest, sparkling with magical static._

_'Finish your sentence, Dursley, I dare you,' Harry hissed, sounding more like a snake than a human. His sneer became more pronounced. 'Give me a reason to kill you, and I swear I will.'_

_'Hate me, do you?' Vernon sneered, walking forward now. Harry raised his wand higher. 'Hate me for trying to knock that nonsense out of you, do you? Hate me for trying to make you normal?'_

_'No,' said Harry, his green eyes now slits. 'I hate you because you made me what I am now: bitter and dark, and damn near evil.'_

_'That's your own damn fault, Potter!' roared Vernon. 'I knew from the day you were left on our doorstep by that crackpot old fool that you were just like them, just as abnormal as your lot are! I knew you were another hocus-pocus maker, and I tried to make you a normal person, but I failed, and good riddance, I say! You aren't worth it.'_

_Harry raised his wand higher still; it was now pointed at the spot between his eyes._

_'Vernon, don't!' Petunia shouted. 'It's not worth it, don't, please!'_

_'Don't worry, Petunia, darling,' said Vernon calmly, never taking his eyes off Harry. 'The little shit doesn't have the guts to kill me –'_

_Vernon's sentence was drowned in his own scream of pain as his eyes suddenly erupted in flaming agony: Harry had fired a curse at them._

_'Don't I?' he asked coldly and almost as calmly as Vernon had been. He walked over to Vernon's fallen figure and gazed down at it, hatred boiling inside him. 'It would give me great pleasure to see you die before my eyes, dear Uncle, and I could do it right now, without a single person knowing. See this wand? It's not mine. No one could ever trace the murder back to me. In other words, I hold your life in my hands. And if you remember our little history, with your "lessons" consisting of tying me up in that cupboard, you'll know that you have minutes to live, at the most.'_

_His eyes narrowed further, now barely visible between his eyelids. He sneered a little._

_'Do you remember, dear uncle, how I begged you not to torment me the way you did? Do you remember how you used to drag me over to that cupboard, and how you'd leave me there, strapped inside, for weeks on end? The Muggle school wouldn't care, of course, they sided with you anyway. But even then, I knew that one day, somehow, I'd get revenge. Imagine how happy I was when I discovered I had the power to make that revenge a reality.' He considered Vernon, who was still grasping his eyes in pain, before raising his wand again. 'I'm going to kill you, Vernon. I'm going to kill you quickly. But before I do, I'm going to make you feel the pain you put me through for five years.' He pointed his wand directly at Vernon's chest and bellowed, 'Crucio!'_

_Vernon screamed in agony, rolling around on the ground, and Harry knew he felt as though a thousand knives were tearing at his insides, flaming and writhing, pulling him apart inside and out. Harry held the curse, letting it completely engulf Vernon, for a full minute before releasing it. Vernon did not move, but twitched feebly._

_'Do you see now, Dursley?' Harry said coldly, raising his wand again. 'I do indeed have the guts to kill you, to use your words, and the end has indeed come.' He pointed his wand at Vernon's chest. 'AVADA KEDAVRA!'_

_The green light flooded the room as the jet of light hit Vernon in the chest, and the man rolled onto his back, his arm hitting the floor. His eyes were fixed, blank and empty, and it was obvious to the other three in the room that he was dead._

_Harry did not take his eyes off his now dead uncle, but continued to stare at it, delighted at what he saw. For minutes, nobody spoke. Dudley was too shocked to speak; Petunia was crying silently. When she made a sobbing noise out loud, Harry spoke again._

_'Don't be too down, dear aunt,' he said coldly. 'You're next.'_

_Petunia fell to her knees, crying openly now, her horse-like face screwed up in fear and sorrow._

_'Why are you doing this?' she shrieked._

_Harry turned to her, eyes widened madly, and she could see the answer before he spoke it directly in those green orbs, which so resembled Lily's. The eyes were shining madly, and Petunia was more scared now than she had ever been. She knew the answer before it left his lips._

_'Because you drove me to it!'_

_He pointed his wand at her as well, directly at her chest. He had no further words to spare for her._

_'Avada Kedavra!'_

_The green jet of light flew from his wand and hit her in the chest, killing her instantly; her body, already kneeling, fell sideways and moved no more._

_Dudley was backed up against the wall now, his eyes widened in fear. Harry paid him no mind. Flicking the wand lazily, he hovered his aunt's body over to his uncle's and laid them side by side. He then stood up straight, and let his eyes and head turn almost casually over to Dudley's now cowering form._

_'What's-a matter, Dudders?' sneered Harry. 'I thought you were going to fight me like a man. Oh, but I forgot, you don't know how! You did need some mates behind you just to take me on, how easily I forget these trivial matters ...'_

_His eyes narrowed, and he considered Dudley for a moment. Dudley, for his part, was brave enough to hold Harry's gaze, though his own eyes showed nothing but terror and fear. Having just seen his parents killed, this was understandable._

_'Hm ... I could let you live, but I can't frame you for the murders, since you're pure Muggle and this was an unmarked murder ...' Harry stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. 'I think I'll let you go, dear cousin. You never were worth it.'_

_He turned and walked back towards the doorway to the kitchen, his back on Dudley completely. At that moment, the enormity of the entire situation seemed to hit Dudley with the force of a truck, and he stood up, all reason lost in his own abyss. He edged his way over to the knife rack, grabbing one of the knife handles. As Harry stepped over the threshold of the doorway, Dudley made his move._

_'You're finished, you murderering freak!' he shouted, and he threw the knife as hard as he could at the retreating figure._

_Before Dudley could so much as blink, Harry had reacted: he spun on the spot, knocked away the spinning knife with a flick of his wand and had it trained directly on Dudley, who froze instantly, his arms snapping to his sides and his legs snapping together. His mouth was clenched shut and his eyes were stuck facing forward._

_'You shouldn't have done that, Dudley,' said Harry in a soft hiss, his eyes sparkling slightly, though it couldn't have been plainer that he was severely angry. 'I was willing to spare your life, and you spat in my face.' He pointed his wand at Dudley's motionless chest; Dudley's eyes showed all the fear Harry needed to see. 'Avada Kedavra!'_

_Like his mother and father before him, Dudley collapsed to the ground, dead before he touched it. Harry said nothing more, nor did he spare his cousin a second glance, as he turned on the spot and walked out of the house, his robes flapping around his ankles in his wake._

_(End Flashback)_

'Harry?' Ginny was saying, concern creeping into her voice for the first time. 'Are you still in there, Harry?' Harry snapped into sense as Ginny rapped his head lightly with her knuckles.

'Eh? Yeah, I'm still here,' he replied, rubbing the spot on his forehead where a red scar sat, a reminder of how his life had been torn from him at infancy. 'Just lost in memories ...'

Ginny leaned further into him, letting him cool down a bit more, and kissed him. He closed his eyes and kissed back, forgetting about all of his worries at that moment. They continued their kiss for a minute or so before they broke apart.

'That make you feel better, Potter?' Ginny said, smirking.

'Much better, Weasley, thank you,' said Harry with a smirk of his own. It was true: his Occlumency shields were easier to raise now, having nothing to weigh them down, and he blocked out the hateful memories he had just relived.

* * *

'This meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, for the twenty-fourth of April, 1999, is now in session!' rang the voice of Albus Dumbledore to those present. 'Everyone is present?'

'Yes,' rang everyone in the room.

'Excellent, excellent,' said Dumbledore with a smile. 'We begin immediately. There is an urgent matter we must discuss straight away.' Everyone leaned forward, staring down the table at their leader, waiting for him to elaborate. 'The Philosopher's Stone, which is known to grant the holder immortality for as long as they drink the Elixir of Life stored in it, has gone missing. It is presumed stolen as of yesterday night.'

'The same one Nicholas Flamel made?' cried Molly Weasley, looking aghast.

'The very same,' agreed Dumbledore solemnly, putting the tips of his fingers together as he stared down the table at everybody present; there were more than thirty of them. 'We must take action against the perpetrators at once. It is believed that he, she or they are still in London, where the theft took place.'

'Ridiculous!' barked Alastor Moody at once, a magical eye whizzing around in his socket. 'What possible reason could they have for staying at the area, possibly the scene, of the crime?'

'London's a big city, even the Muggle part of it. They could technically be anywhere there,' said Remus Lupin tiredly, running a hand through his graying hair. 'Quite brilliant, actually, using the Muggle area as cover. That's if they did, of course. There's no reason to call fact on the idea that they're in London. They could have another hideout.'

'If they are pure-blooded, they are more than likely staying in a wizarding village, or a village near one,' said the low voice of Severus Snape from his spot next to Dumbledore. 'The majority of the Death Eaters do this, and I see no reason to think that a couple of common thieves wouldn't do the same.'

'They ain't just common thieves, Snape,' called Aberforth Dumbledore from halfway down the table. He pushed his long stringy hair out of his face and continued, 'I was there on business at the time when it happened. Needed some drinks from the Leaky Cauldron, did a spot of business with that landlord.'

'Did you see what the perpetrator looked like, by chance?' asked Dumbledore in his reassuring voice.

'Nope, he moved too quick past the bar for me to get a good look at him,' Aberforth replied, not looking at his brother but staring at his drink. 'I did see a figure surrounded by them Muggle authority machines when I left for the Apparition point, but the bloke had a mask on, so I didn't see what he looked like. Yes, I know its a he, cause he screamed out something that sounded like "Serves you right, fools!" so I went to see, but he had already run. Blew back both people and machine to escape, too. Right good bit of wandwork, that was. I don't see any regular Death Eater doin' that.'

'Did you see anything else that could be key to singling him out?' Mad-Eye asked. 'He had a mask, but you don't always need to see the face to find out who a criminal is.'

'All I saw was that he had black hair that was almost to his shoulders,' said Aberforth.

'Right,' called Kingsley Shacklebolt, a dark man near the end of the table, 'now we need to find out if he has any accomplices. Was he all alone?'

'According to the reports we got back, there was nobody with him,' said Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office, from the other end of the table. 'He was alone, carrying nothing but a wand. The disguised Auror we sent said he'd never seen a wizard that young display such amazing feats of magical skill. The kid apparently caused a surge of magic similar to a whirlwind with a mere flick of the wand – and non-verbally, too!'

There were murmurs of mingled shock and awe at these words; some looked quite worried at the words, while others looked a little excited. Dumbledore looked glad at this.

'That can be seen as a double-edged sword,' he said to the confused assembly, his eyes twinkling maddeningly. 'On the one hand, the youth is very dangerous to us. On the other hand, if we were to somehow make the youth see that working with us will benefit all involved –'

'It'll never happen!' interrupted Minerva McGonagall in a sharp tone, cutting off the rest of Dumbledore's sentence. 'The youth has already killed one of the Aurors, hasn't he? Dawlish reported that he caused an oncoming Muggle vehicle to blow into smithereens, killing the man inside. He said he knew full well what he was doing. He had no intentions of peace, Albus!'

'All the same,' replied Dumbledore calmly, 'it will not hurt to try. After all, if we don't bring in this young man, there is a good chance that Lord Voldemort would try to. Talents such as this do not go ignored for long.'

There was a solemn silence at these words; no one present had any doubt of Dumbledore's statement. Voldemort craved power, and just glimpsing this youth in action would draw Voldemort to him.

'Headmaster, are we any closer to actually finding out the secret to the Dark Lord's power?' Snape asked, in the same low voice.

'No, my dear boy, we are not,' said Dumbledore sadly. 'I have been researching possible ways that Voldemort could have become as strong as he is, but each theory that comes up seems less likely than the last. He is simply a walking mystery, like a puzzle with missing pieces.'

This was Dumbledore's answer to the question every time it was asked. He was no closer to finding out how to bring down Voldemort than he was twelve years ago, when Voldemort had returned in the first place.

It was around the same time Harry Potter had vanished from the face of the earth, presumed dead.

Dumbledore remembered the day he had gone to the Dursleys, five years after first leaving Harry there in the first place. He had walked up the walkway, knocked on the door, and been greeted maliciously by a large man that Dumbledore knew to be Harry's uncle, Vernon Dursley. He did not need to use Legilimency to know that he was not welcome in the man's presence. He had immediately inquired about Harry's well-being, and the response had shaken him so badly that he felt it even to this day:

_'I don't know, and I don't care! The stupid boy ran away a week ago and we haven't seen him since! We crossed our fingers hoping he's dead.'_

Dumbledore's rage had been felt all across Surrey that day. He had to perform a mass-radius Memory Charm to Obliviate the memories of everyone who had felt it. He had left the swine of a man and spent the next few weeks searching far and wide for Harry, but there was nothing, not even with the help of his Order. Finally, after a month and a half searching, he had been forced to accept the fact that Harry could not have survived the outcome of running away.

Therefore, horror-struck and grief-ridden, he had gone back to Hogwarts and had not been seen for days afterwards.

People had taken it badly, but none had taken it as badly as Sirius Black, who had been in Azkaban prison at the time for the murders of thirteen people. Any doubt that Sirius had been innocent was immediately quelled to nothing. What sealed it for Sirius Black had been the capture of Peter Pettigrew the following week, who had been found with a bleeding stump for an arm, next to a cauldron that reeked with Dark Magic. Just one look into Pettigrew's mind told everything that needed to be said: Voldemort had risen again.

Sirius had been immediately freed, but his grief coupled with his long-term accompanyment of Dementors had driven him mad. He had run away, and they had not heard from him since. They presumed him to be living abroad, though they had not ruled out suicide.

As for Harry, they had sent the Hogwarts letter in the final lingering hope that he was somehow still alive, but it had never been responded to. They continued to send them each year in the hope that somewhere out there, he would receive it and answer, but no word ever reached him. Finally, after six years of fooling themselves, they gave up in 1997. They knew that if Harry was even alive, he would be seventeen now and that if he wasn't coming to Hogwarts now, he never would.

Strange news, in the meantime, had reached Dumbledore in late 1995. All three Dursleys had died within their own home, presumably instantly. No one among the Muggles had been able to decipher the reason for the deaths. Admittedly, there had been a problem with the head of house, Vernon Dursley, as he showed signs of internal damage as well as irrepairable damage to the eyes, but Petunia Dursley and her son, Dudley, had been unmarked both inside and out.

Dumbledore knew that it was a wizard murder, but he had not the faintest idea of who it could be. He did not recognize the magic signature; it belonged to a Mr Thorfinn Rowle, but Dumbledore did not know the name, nor the signature of his magic, presuming the man was a wizard, which he must be. He wondered if the man simply had a grudge against the three Dursleys, but he had never been found. His wand had been found days later in a small puddle outside of Surrey, and proved with a simple Prior Incantatem spell to be the wand that had murdered the Dursleys. Oddly enough, a Stinging Hex and a Cruciatus Curse had been used respectively before the three Killing Curses, and a Blasting Hex and Hovering Charm before them. Whoever Thorfinn Rowle was, he had forced his way into the house and tortured Vernon Dursley before killing all three Dursleys.

Dumbledore blinked and shook his head out of his stupor, seeing all eyes on him. He quickly regained footing.

'All right,' he said in what he hoped was a commanding tone, 'back to business. Now, if we want any chance on catching the thief who stole the Philosopher's Stone ...'

* * *

A burning pain shot through the lightning-bolt scar, and Harry Potter woke up with a start, gasping and panting.

Getting into a sitting position on the bed, he put a hand to his forehead, which was burning with pain. It was, as always, peculiar. He had felt a strange feeling of anger just moments ago, even though he didn't currently have any reason to be angry at anything, or anyone. That same feeling of anger had somehow caused his scar to burn with pain. Harry leaned against the headboard, thinking about it now that his full attention was on it.

Last time, about a month ago, it had been because he had felt a strong desire to laugh, as though he were suddenly very happy. The time before that had been two years previously, when he had been sixteen years old. He had felt angry then, too. And the time before that had been nearly a decade before, when he had felt happier than he could ever remember being. Harry had not had much, aside from meeting Ginny when he was eight years old, to be happy about in his life: his relatives had seen to that. He wished he knew how he had ended up at his relatives' home in the first place, but the only thing he could remember was a flash of green light, which he knew to be the Killing Curse. It was, after all, so commonly used by him on his witting and unwitting victims.

Sighing irritably, he got out of the bed and began to dress; it was nearly sunrise anyway. Ginny was still in bed, sleeping peacefully. He smiled a little as he stared at her sleeping figure. She had been with him for a long time now, over ten years. He still remembered the day they had met. It had involved him saving her very life ...

_(Flashback)_

_Cold, thought the tiny eight-year-old boy as he walked about the alley. So cold ..._

_All little Harry had to keep him alive was a Muggle lighter and a bit of meat he had taken from a small concession stand earlier that day. He was able to last for long periods of time without food, and even live off of little food, due to his experiences of near starvation with the Dursleys. No, the lack of food didn't bother him. He was tired of walking around the streets in the winter, however, with nothing but the t-shirt and jeans he had worn the day he had ran away two years previously, which were still very large on him._

_Turning a corner, he nearly walked dead-on into a tall, round-bellied man, who was bending over a sack that appeared to be wiggling around a bit. Another man, who was around the same height as the other man but skinnier, was standing beside him. Both had their backs turned to Harry, who did not make himself known, but hid behind the corner of the building he had just walked around, his eyes on the sack._

_'Can't you keep her still?' snapped the skinnier of the two men angrily._

_'She's as still as we can get 'er,' spat the bigger man. 'All wrapped up'n unable to speak. Somehow she's still movin', but I can' secure 'er any more'n she is already.'_

_Harry's eyes narrowed with fury. There was someone in the sack?_

_'Look, if she's not willing to keep still, I'm going to show her exactly why she should be,' barked the skinnier man, and reaching down, he pulled the rope off the head of the sack and pulled it open._

_Harry had to literally stuff both sets of knuckles in his mouth to stop himself from yelling out loud. A small girl in a blue sundress and black shawl was lying on the ground in front of them on top of the open sack, her body strapped at the torso, arms, legs and knees. She appeared to be gagged with a small cloth. She looked up at them from under her damp mop of red hair in terror; she had clearly been kidnapped._

_The skinnier man reached into his pocket and pulled out a device that Harry recognized as a gun; his own fury mounted. The man pointed it at the girl, who did not seem to know what it was, but quickly recognized the threat, as she screamed into the cloth._

_'Listen, girly,' he spat, 'if you know what's good for you, you're going to keep still. One blow from this will put you out of your misery for good, but we need you, so keep quiet!'_

_Harry's fury reached breaking point. He jumped out from his hiding spot, picked up a small piece of pipe at his feet and threw it at the man with the gun, hitting him in the head._

_'OW!' snarled the man, grabbing his head. 'What the –?'_

_The bigger man spun around, seeing Harry standing there. He glared at Harry, who glared defiantly back. There was no fear in his small body, only rage and anger; he knew exactly what it was like to be strapped down, helpless and scared, fearing for his own life, and seeing someone else, especially a little girl, in the same predicament was not something he would stand for. Not if he could help it._

_'Well, lookie 'ere!' sneered the bigger man, towering over Harry, who stood his ground. 'A lil' runt 'ere to join the show!'_

_The skinner man turned and looked at Harry as well, a grin stretching across his face._

_'So, you want to die, do you, you little brat?' he said in a tone that was as sneering as his partner's. 'That can be arranged.' He pointed his gun at Harry's head._

_The next thing anyone knew, the gun was flung from the man's hand, which appeared to be burned._

_'ARGH!'_

_The bigger man looked at Harry, who appeared to be sparkling with static electricity._

_'Let her go,' he said coldly._

_'You lil' shit!' roared the bigger man. 'I'll get yeh for tha'!'_

_He stomped at Harry, who did not back off. Towering a good few feet over him, he raised a fist and punched at Harry's face. The split-second before it made contact, his fist stopped in midair, and for a second, the man appeared to be frozen. Next moment, he was flung across the alley, smashing into the wall. He slid down to the base of the wall and crumpled to the ground, moving no more. A small puddle of blood was forming around him._

_'Jesus Christ!' shouted the skinnier man, staring at his fallen partner. 'What the hell just happened?'_

_The other man made no reply; he appeared to be unconscious, if not already dead._

_The man slowly turned to face Harry, who had not yet moved a muscle. He pointed the gun directly at Harry's chest and snarled, 'You're dead, kid.' He pulled the trigger._

_For a moment, it looked as though the bullet had hit him. A moment later, when the man realized Harry was still standing, unphazed, in the exact same spot, he fired again. This time, he realized that the bullet had stopped millimeters from Harry's chest. The other bullet was directly beside it._

_'Who the hell are you?' shouted the skinny man, looking scared now._

_Harry did not reply. He raised his hand and grabbed the two bullets in his tiny fist, crushing them into powder. He forced his hand forward, and the other man was sent flying backwards, into the same wall as his partner. With a sickening crunch, he fell on top of his partner._

_Not sparing the unconscious men a look, Harry walked over to the girl and kneeled before her. The girl still looked scared as she stared up at him, eyes red with tears._

_'Hold on,' he said soothingly. 'I have to get you out of here, in case they wake up.'_

_She nodded, still looking a little scared, but slightly reassured now as well. Harry reached down and picked up the girl, and began to hurry away; he thought he had seen the man with the gun stir. He walked hurriedly down the alleyway, holding the girl tightly to her, until he was a good distance away from the spot they had been in. At the end of the alley, hidden behind a stack of old boxes, he gently lowered her to the ground. He then reached behind her head and pulled out the knot in the cloth, and pulled it out of her mouth. She gasped for breath quickly, breathing as though she had not breathed in a long time._

_'T-Thank you,' she gasped, tears still running down her face._

_Harry smiled wearily, now pulling off the straps tying her up. First her legs, then her body, and finally her arms. Once all of the infernal straps were off, she sprung into a sitting position and flung her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. Confused and unsure of what to do, Harry wrapped her in his own arms, hugging her._

_'I was s-so s-s-scared,' she whispered, crying harder still. 'I w-was suf-f-ffocating in that bag, and t-the cloth was a-a-already in my mouth, so I c-could barely b-b-breathe ...' She could not say anything more, but clung tighter still to Harry, unable to stop crying._

_'Shh ...' Harry said quietly, rubbing her back. 'It's all right ... I'm here for you ...'_

_He did not know how long he kneeled there in that alley, comforting the girl who so reminded him of himself, rubbing her back and speaking words of comfort into her ear, but he knew that it was nearly sunrise before they broke the embrace and moved on ..._

_(End Flashback)_

Shaking his head of the memory, Harry ran a hand through his long hair, using all his powers of Occlumency to dull the pain. To his surprise, it worked, but slowly. After a few minutes, he had managed to separate himself from his scar's pain, and he could think completely again.

He walked out of the room and into the training room. Pulling out his wand, he waved it a few times in a slightly complicated manner, and a set of weights appeared out of nowhere. Smiling, he walked over to the bench, laid down on it and slid himself under the weights. Grabbing the pole with both hands, he said, 'Eighty pounds.' The weight set glowed blue for a moment, then returned to normal.

Focusing his own energy, he lifted the weights up, relishing in the strain on his muscles as he lifted up the weights over and over again. Sweat soon began to cover his face, but he did not pay it any mind.

Half an hour passed in silence, aside from his own quiet grunts, before the door opened and Ginny walked in, wrapped in a black dressing gown, her red hair tied back. Harry did not look up until she was halfway across the room, when he finally saw her coming. He quickly let the bar of weights fall back into its holding position on the bench, slid out from it and stood up, his entire body coated in sweat now. It quickly vanished with a flick of his hand.

'Morning,' he said, grinning at her. 'Sleep well?'

'I suppose so,' Ginny replied, yawning a little. Harry pulled her into a hug, his strong arms holding her tightly and comfortably. 'You must not have, though. How come you got up?'

'Woke up early, couldn't get back to sleep,' said Harry dismissively, his eyes flicking upwards to indicate his scar. Ginny looked at it for a moment, seeing its redness that indicated it was still burning with pain, then looked Harry in the eyes, her arms still around him.

'What's with that scar, Harry?' she asked quietly, a hint of worry in her voice now. 'It only acts up every once in a while, but when it does, it looks like it hurts like hell.'

'It does,' Harry said, his tone uncaring, 'but Occlumency helps cut off most of the pain. Don't worry about the scar, it just comes with the Potter.' Ginny grinned at this. 'I'm sure there's some kind of reason for it hurting sometimes, but I don't know what it is, and I can't honestly say that I care. We have more important things to worry about.'

'Like what?' asked Ginny, frowning.

'Like the fact that my little theft hit the papers,' he said a little bitterly, indicating a newspaper on another bench. Ginny broke the embrace and walked over to it, picking it up and looking at the subtitle. She looked up again, a hint of anger mixed into her weariness.

'Did you make a big scene about the mission?' she asked impatiently.

'In my defense, I tried not to,' said Harry, still grinning slightly. 'Those Muggle cops caught up to me in some Muggle house. Apparently I forgot about the burgler alarm that was there. Had to kill the man living in the house, plus fight my way through a semi-circle of cops and their cars to make it out of there without being caught. I suppose I didn't have to make one of the cars explode, but all the same ...'

Ginny shook her head in resignation.

'It bloody figures,' she sighed. Harry smirked.

* * *

'Dumbledore!' yelled Minerva McGonagall, running up the stone steps towards the Headmaster's office. She opened the door before Albus Dumbledore could say, 'Enter.' Running up to the desk, she said, 'Dumbledore! We have a lead on the theif's – or thieves' – whereabouts!'

'You do?' said Dumbledore, looking up from his copy of _Transfiguration Today_. 'Where did you scout our thieving youth friend?'

'There is a location outside of Godric's Hollow; a small villa. They're there, Dumbledore!'

* * *

Author's Notes:

Well, this is my newest story. It's a title in progress right now, so the story might appear under a new name later on. If it does, I will be sure to inform you of it.

So, I hope you've enjoyed this installment, and the next chapter will be up within a week at the longest. Ta-ta!


	2. Chapter 2: The Confrontation

A/N: Story Name: Life of Rebellion

A/N: Letters, thoughts, Parseltongue, and some other forms of writing in this story will be written in Italics.

Summary: At the age of six, a young boy runs away from his negligent and cruel relatives. He becomes a thief, an assassin and a division in the war between light and darkness: the shade of gray. With a faithful companion at his side, a battle-scarred Harry Potter searches for the truth about his past.

Disclaimer: JKR owns the series as a whole, I own the fanfic-made and self-created modifications in this story in particular. I take no claim over the Harry Potter series. Any review saying otherwise will be automatically deleted.

**Chapter 2: The Confrontation**

'This meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, for the thirtieth of April, 1999, is now in session!' called Albus Dumbledore, and the usual chorus of people confirming their presences rang through the room. 'Our first order of business is better news than we've had in a long time. Our own Minerva McGonagall has told me that the whereabouts of the one involved with the theft of the Philosopher's Stone has been discovered in a small villa a small ways away from Godric's Hollow.'

'Godric's Hollow?' exclaimed Mad-Eye Moody, looking amazed. 'A thief would actually hide somewhere near there? Ridiculous, I think!'

'Yes, it is,' agreed McGonagall. 'However, it makes sense. Nobody would think to look for a criminal in Godric's Hollow, the place named after one of the bravest men in history.'

Mad-Eye could not disagree with this, and made no comment, but nodded.

'Why wouldn't he hide somewhere in, say, a Muggle location?' asked Dedalus Diggle, spinning his top hat between his hands and looking at the table. 'Why would he hide in a wizarding domain? The Ministry usually looks into those before Muggle areas. Isn't that right, Rufus?'

'You are correct,' Rufus Scrimgeour said, nodding at Diggle. 'Yes, my Aurors tend to look in the most obvious spots first, before going for Muggle areas. It's been procedure for a long time now, Mr Diggle, and, though I wish to the contrary, I an unable to change it. Only the Minister for Magic can do that.'

'We just need the support of the Department Heads,' said Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, who was sitting near Dumbledore's end of the table. 'The problem is that none of the Department Heads who are not present at this table think the issue is important enough to grant notice to.'

'It's not a big issue,' conceded Lancelot Ogden, another member of the Ministry. 'However, it can be the deciding factor on whether or not one from the Ministry can catch a criminal in time. Unfortunately, a wizard can hide in a wizarding domain in as many cases as they can hide in a Muggle domain, and that is the reason why the Ministry won't look into the issue.'

'Perfectly true,' said Dumbledore calmly. 'But as I may remind everyone, the matter at hand is catching one specific criminal, and not necessarily working towards catching many, especially when there is only one at the moment – or we hope, anyway. We cannot forget that there is always the possibility of there being an accomplice, or even several accomplices, with this specific thief.'

'Absolutely!' barked Mad-Eye. 'We can't rule out any possibility, no matter how big or small it is!'

'Then I trust that a group of you will be going to the villa to investigate?' Dumbledore asked to the group at large.

'We won't need more than a half a dozen at most,' said Mad-Eye gruffly, standing up. 'I'm going for sure.'

'We'll go, too,' said Bill Weasley, indicating himself and his brother, Charlie Weasley

'I'll go as well,' Kingsley Shacklebolt said calmly, standing up as well.

'Good, very good,' said Dumbledore cheerfully, looking around. 'Will anyone else be going?'

Scrimgeour stood up.

'I will look into sending two of my Aurors to go with you, but if they are on other cases, I will go with you five as well,' he said dismissively, getting to his feet as well. 'I'll see if we can spare Dawlish and Runcurn, but I think Runcurn might be on a case already. There was some hostage situation in a Muggle location, and Albert does do well in those cases ...'

'Very well,' said Dumbledore, standing up and indicating for the rest to do the same. 'Then I do think there is little point in keeping you all here any longer. This meeting is adjurned. Oh, and Severus, could you stay behind for a few moments? I have a few concerns to speak to you about.'

Everybody got to their feet and left, except for Severus Snape, who walked over to stand beside Dumbledore, watching the Order members leave the hall.

'You wished to speak to me, Albus?' he said in a low voice, his eyes on the few stragglers making their way to the doors.

'Yes, Severus,' muttered Dumbledore, looking sideways at Snape. 'There are other concerns about this faceless friend of ours, and I must ask you of one of them.' Snape looked at him, his eyes narrowed a little in curiosity. 'Severus, has Lord Voldemort said anything about this thief in recent times?'

Snape did not look surprised at the question.

'No,' he said quietly, 'and I have wondered about that. He did mention his curiosity on the subject in the last gathering of the Death Eaters, but he did not elaborate. I do not think he knows anything more than we do on the subject; that is not, however, comforting news. The Dark Lord has ways of finding out information, even without torturing it out of others.'

'No, I see what you mean,' said Dumbledore, frowning slightly. 'Voldemort has been unusually quiet lately. Raids have been fewer and farther between in the last few weeks, and he has not been out in the open since the beginning of the year. There is only one possible conclusion: he is planning something.'

'Would this have something to do with the prophecy?' asked Snape, looking worried now.

'I doubt it,' Dumbledore replied dismissively. 'The one he marked using the information of the prophecy vanished over a decade ago, and thus far, no move has been made against Neville Longbottom, nor his relatives, aside from his parents, who are, as you know, permanently in St. Mungo's Hospital.'

Snape looked less worried at these words, but his face did not soften.

'Lord Voldemort is not indestructable, Severus,' said Dumbledore softly, looking at him again, 'but he is no doubt a difficult opponent. He cannot be killed the way common wizards can. I am still researching the ways in which he can be killed, but I am still incomplete in my information.'

'But what do you know about his secrets, Dumbledore?' Snape asked irritably. 'You keep saying that you have not made a breakthrough in your research, but ... well, you usually know more than you say, I have noticed that many times.'

'Very astute, Severus,' Dumbledore chuckled, beaming at him. 'Yes, I do have theories on Voldemort's secrets, but I do not wish to disclose them, since they are just that: theories. When I do find out more on this particular subject, I will tell you, because you, above everyone in the Order, deserve to know.'

'How do you come to that conclusion?' asked Snape, looking a little surprised now.

'You risk your life nearly every day for our cause, Severus,' said Dumbledore seriously. 'When this war is over, you will be entitled to a nice, quiet retirement. Until then, we must keep pulling every string we can in the hopes that this war will end someday. It has gone on for twelve years too long.'

Dumbledore turned towards the doors and walked out of the hall, leaving Snape to ponder his words.

A moment passed, and Snape looked to make sure that Dumbledore had left, before he walked into an antechamber off the hall and towards the fireplace. Pulling some Floo powder out of the cup on top of the fireplace, he threw it into the grate, called out, 'Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire,' and vanished. A moment later, he appeared in the fireplace of a very well-kept room the size of the hall he had just stepped out of.

'Who's there?' called a voice, a woman's, and Narcissa Malfoy walked into the room. Her eyes fell on Snape almost immediately. 'Severus! We weren't expecting you!'

'No, I did not think it would be wise to plan a visit,' said Snape, looking around the room. 'Who else is here?'

'Lucius is in the other room with Cyrus and Rodolphus, discussing plans for another raid.' She rolled her eyes slightly. 'Our Lord isn't even aware of this one. It seems Rodolphus is simply too eager to resist. Bellatrix was always like that, too.'

Snape nodded, not really listening to Narcissa's words. He followed her across the room and into the dining hall, where a long table that could easily sit four dozen people stretched across. Three men were sitting together at one end of it, talking quietly. None looked up until Narcissa had almost reached them, at which point Lucius Malfoy looked over to see her and Snape standing there.

'Hello, Severus,' he said in greeting, inclining his head. Snape nodded back at him. 'We were just discussing plans for another raid.'

'Yes, Narcissa was telling me,' said Snape, his face twisting into an ugly look. 'She also says that the Dark Lord is not aware of this particular raid. I trust you know, Lucius, what the Dark Lord will do to those who make plans that do not include him?'

'Oh, I plan to tell him,' Lucius muttered dismissively. 'Rodolphus has mentioned that he wishes to bring this attack to Muggle London again.'

'You'll be kicking a city while it's down,' Snape said coldly, 'as it has just been attacked by a mysterious youth of whom even the Order does not know the identity to. You remember this, I think?'

'Of course we do,' said Cyrus Yaxley with a slight sneer. 'What does it matter? They're Muggles, Snape, not pure-bloods like us. They're nothing special.'

'Like _you_, you mean,' corrected Snape. 'You, the Dark Lord and everyone else know full well that I am not a pure-blooded wizard. My name at Hogwarts made that clear ... the Half-Blood Prince ...'

'Trivial nothing,' Yaxley said, waving a hand dismissively. 'You're strong enough to pass off as a pure-blood if you really wanted to, Snape.'

To this, Snape merely nodded, his features still cold.

'Shall we get back to business, gentlemen?' said Rodolphus Lestrange impatiently, indicating a parchment in front of him. 'This attack won't be hosted by three Death Eaters, after all. We need at least a dozen to pull this off. We're not going in brandishing our wands at everything we see, like Dolohov likes to do.' He said Dolohov's name with a bit of disgust and an ugly sneer. 'Honestly ... marching into Hogsmeade and setting every building he sees aflame, it's small wonder that the Dark Lord puts up with it.'

'It passes the message across quite nicely,' Lucius pointed out quietly. 'People fear Antonin far more than they fear other notable followers, such as, say, Avery or Travers.'

'That's because Avery is brain dead, and Travers is more of a planner than a man of action,' said Yaxley. 'If Travers ever took part in any mission that involved destroying buildings, then I'm a member of the Order of the Phoenix.'

Everyone snorted at this, except for Snape.

'You would do well to remember that I _am_ a member of the Order of the Phoenix, Yaxley,' he muttered coldly. 'I do not like it, but it keeps me out of Azkaban. Dumbledore always was far too trusting.'

'Indeed,' said Lucius, inclining his head again. 'He trusts where no one else would. It's the reason why half-breeds like that Hagrid are still allowed freedom and liberation, and why werewolves are allowed jobs.'

'If you are indicating Remus Lupin,' said Snape, 'the reason he has a job is not just because of Dumbledore, but also because of Andromeda Tonks. The two traitors are apparently involved with each other, according to the woman's daughter, Nymphadora, whom I am sorry to say I must tolerate several times a month.'

Yaxley shuddered visably at this.

'She works in the Ministry, as an Order,' he spat. 'I cannot stand the mere sight of her. If there is a clumsier person in this world, I will declare my allegiance to –'

'Don't finish that statement, Cyrus, for the love of Slytherin,' said Rodolphus angrily. 'You know how the Dark Lord feels about remarks such as those, whether they are used out of bitterness or not. Use another example, please.'

Yaxley sobered immediately, looking mortified.

'My apologies,' he said quickly. 'I did not think before I spoke.'

'You rarely do,' muttered Snape under his breath. Yaxley, who was looking regretful for his words, did not hear him.

For a few moments, no one spoke. Lucius, Rodolphus and Yaxley continued to look over their notes, Narcissa had left the hall, and Snape stared at the three, looking into all three of their minds in turn. He found that he did this a lot. When they were with familiar people, they dropped their mind barriers, and did not feel it when they were being prodded inwardly.

_One hint of mistrust, and the Dark Lord will see to them,_ he thought privately. _I'll make sure of that._

'Where is Wormtail?' Lucius asked suddenly, looking up.

'He is in my domain,' replied Snape silkily. 'I need someone to tend to my possessions, and see to it that they are mended and well-kept. Wormtail seems to serve no other purpose aside from this servant role.'

Yaxley sneered, nodding his head.

'And that is where I must go now as well,' said Snape, turning on his heel and heading for the door. 'I have much to research at the current time, so I will see you gentlemen in due time.'

'What are you researching, Severus?' asked Rodolphus, looking up at Snape, who was halfway to the doors.

'Oh, just matters for the Dark Lord,' he called over his shoulder, waving his hand carelessly.

_Matters that will bring the Dark Lord to his knees and hopefully destroy him._

* * *

Godric's Hollow was a small village far away from the hustle and bustle of city life. North of London, it was not like most wizarding villages. Many notable families in wizarding history lived and had lived in this village. The Peverells and the Dumbledores were two such families. Another family that had lived there was the Potters.

One of the Potters was currently walking up the main road, a black cloak covering him overtop a long robe. He held a long wand at his side, ready for anything that might come at him. His emerald eyes scanned the area through his mask, looking for any possible attackers. From the corner of his eye he thought he saw an electric blue one staring back at him, but he turned around and it was gone. Growling low under his breath, he continued up the street, letting his mind wander slightly.

_(Flashback)_

_He was walking through a small town out in farmland, where he had been to once before at the age of four. Twelve years later, there was little change to the vicinity. Looking around, Harry saw dogs of all sizes in the seemingly endless acres. Smirking slightly, he was pleased at the fact that he could finally take his revenge on the dogs he hated so much, and the woman who trained them ... the woman he hated above any other woman. He was going to be the instrument of Marge Dursley's death._

_Strolling through the field, his dark cloak billowing behind him, Harry saw the dog he hated most. Its name was Ripper, and it was completely vicious towards people it and Marge did not like. The last time Harry had seen this dog, it has chased him up the tree in the Dursleys' front yard, and had not been called off until well past midnight._

_His eyes narrowed at the sight of the dog, who finally seemed to notice him. It recognized Harry instantly, as it growled viciously, snarling at him. He sneered._

_Ripper lunged at him, aiming to bite, but Harry merely kicked out, knocking the dog back. It shook this off and lunged again, and this time, Harry wandlessly stopped it in its tracks. Keeping firm eye contact, he raised it into the air and flung it from him, letting it land painfully on the ground ten feet away._

_The dog did not seem to want to stop, now that it was certain that this was Harry. It closed the distance in no time at all, throwing itself at Harry, who raised his wand in resignation ... he had wanted to let the dog die painlessly, too ..._

_'Crucio!'_

_Ripper fell to the ground, twitching and roaring in pain, seeming to draw the attention of every dog in the vicinity. With his free hand, Harry raised a Shield Charm to stop any of them getting near him. Meanwhile, Harry held the Cruciatus Curse on Ripper, who was tearing at itself now, trying to rip the pain from him and failing to do so –_

_'What do you think you're doing to my dog?' yelled a voice from behind him._

_Harry turned around, and his hatred hit a breaking point. Marjorie Dursley was running across the field at him, a large kitchen knife brandishing in her hand. She skidded to a halt in front of the young boy, who now towered over her._

_'Don't you dare touch my dog!' snarled Marge. 'Who are you, anyway? Nobody ever comes out here!'_

_'You don't recognize me?' Harry whispered, though his voice was cold and bit through every syllable. He lowered his wand, and Ripper fell to its side, gasping for breath._

_'What did you do to my dog, you little shit?' Marge roared._

_'I taught it a lesson in pain,' said Harry calmly. He was not afraid of this woman anymore; he had not been afraid of this woman since he had been a kid. 'As I am about to do to you, Marge.'_

_Marge looked surprised._

_'Who are you?' she repeated._

_Harry sighed, lowering his hood. The mask that he always wore shined brightly in the sunlight.'You want to know who I am? Fine by me, Marge.' He pulled off his mask, and Marge gasped._

_'YOU!' she screamed. 'You're that freak nephew of Vernon's!'_

_'The late Vernon, you mean,' he said with a smile, leering down at her. For Marge's part, she did not fall back, but stood her ground. 'The late Dursleys, actually, since you're the only living Dursley left, Marge.'_

_'What have you done?' screeched Marge, advancing on Harry with her knife. 'Answer me, freak!'_

_Harry sneered._

_'I killed them,' he said simply, his eyes shining now._

_With a bulldog-like roar, Marge ran the remaining distance towards him, brandishing her knife in all directions in front of her. Harry shook his head and smiled, raising his wand. A loud BANG and a flash of red light, and Marge flew backwards to the ground, her knife flying out of her hand. With his free hand, Harry used a wandless Hover Charm on it, letting it hover gently towards him until it was directly above Marge's neck. With another flick of his wand, Harry caused chains to appear out of nowhere and bind Marge, and with another flick, he brought her into midair and let her hover there. She thrashed against her bonds, staring at him in fury._

_'Put me down, you little shit!' she shouted, spitting saliva as she yelled._

_'No,' Harry said shortly. 'You're going to watch your dog suffer and die.'_

_Turning away, Harry brought the knife over to the dog and thrust it downwards. It shot down and struck the dog directly in the side. He pushed it further until it was pinned to the ground, drowning in a pool of its blood._

_'NO! RIPPER!' Marge screamed, and Harry, getting a headache from the noise, conjured a strange black material with his wand and stuffed it in Marge's mouth, silencing her._

_'You're too loud, Muggle,' he said angrily under his breath, but loud enough for Marge, who was thrashing at her bonds, to hear him._

_Harry walked over to the dead dog, grasped the handle of the knife with one hand and pulled it out. The dog's body twitched feebly but did not rise. He threw the knife aside and kicked the dog, hard, in the stomach; it soared through the air and landed a dozen yards away, leaving a bloody trail in its wake._

_'Do not worry too much, woman,' said Harry coolly, looking at the now hysterical woman. 'You will not suffer too much. Or, at least, you will not bleed from it.' He raised his wand. 'Crucio!'_

_Even with the black material in her mouth, Marge's muffled screams could be heard. Harry knew the feeling on a human was unbearable and did not care: this woman had contributed into making his life a living hell as a child. As far as he was concerned, the woman had brought it on herself, and was merely receiving her just desserts._

_After a few minutes, Harry released the spell, and Marge fell limp against her flying bonds, twitching and struggling feebly. Harry flicked his wand and both gag and bonds vanished, leaving Marge to fall to the ground. Flicking his wand again, Harry forced Marge into a standing position._

_'You don't know just how much pleasure it gives me to do this, you bitch,' he growled._

_Marge did not reply. Perhaps she couldn't. She merely stared up at him, fear and terror evident in her eyes. The same look that he received from anyone who was about to die at his hands. He liked seeing it on his uncle's sister. Grinning madly now, he raised his wand and pointed it at Marge's chest._

_'Avada Kedavra!'_

_The green jet of light flew from Harry's wand and hit Marge directly in the chest. Her look of horror never left her face as she was thrusted backwards by the force of the spell, smashing deeper into the ground. Her fixed, dead eyes stared into the sky above, seeing nothing at all._

_Sneering at the body of the last of his relatives so to speak, Harry walked away, Disapparating only after he had put a good distance between himself and Marjorie Dursley's body._

_(End Flashback)_

Shaking his head of the memory, which had taken place two years previously, Harry continued walking down the main road of Godric's Hollow, looking to the right. At last, he found what he was looking for.

The former home of the Potters had definitely seen better days. The grass had grown wildly all around it, and the house itself looked as though moss had grown out of it. A good portion of the second floor had been blown apart, and from the outside view, it looked as though it had happened from the inside. Harry looked at the portion and saw the remains of what looked like a baby's crib sitting on the spot of the floor that wasn't caved in.

_So that's where it happened,_ Harry thought to himself. He ran a hand through his long hair, walking towards the house. It seemed to react to his presence, because he found he could not walk further than halfway to the house from the road. Giving up, he pulled out his wand and cast a sensory spell on it. Many charms appeared to have been placed on the area as a whole.

Realizing that the house was not meant to be approached, Harry turned and walked back towards the road. He then saw a sign right in front of the house that he had not seen before. It was scribbled on in many places, all appearing to be wishing Harry luck, wherever he was. He smiled underneath his hood. If only those same people could see him now ...

Standing up to his full height, he Disapparated, reappearing in front of the town church. There was a graveyard beyond it, and Harry walked towards it. He did not take notice of the statue, which he could swear morphed as he walked past it, nor the large gravestone at the front of the graveyard, which bore the name of Peverell on it. He walked straight past most of the graves, occasionally taking in the surnames of people who were related to his various victims, until one caught his eye. There were two with the surname: Kendra and Ariana Dumbledore.

_Dumbledore ..._ There was a name that Harry recognized for sure.

Narrowing his eyes in mild disgust, he continued on. He finally found the graves that he was looking for, which bore the names of his parents, Lily and James Potter, some two rows away. He kneeled before the headstone, stowing his wand in his pocket as he did so, pulled off his mask and stared at the words engraved into the marble stone.

_James Potter. born 27 March 1960, died 31 October 1981.  
Lily Potter, born 30 January 1960, died 31 October 1981._

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._

For the first time in a very long time, Harry felt an emotion that did not tie in with hatred or, in Ginny's case, love. He felt sorrow. These two people, who had both been in their early twenties when they had died, had given their lives for him. They had cast themselves in front of a Dark wizard's wand, sacrificing themselves to save him. A single tear trickled down his cheek, and he caught it in his finger, rubbing it away. He had to be strong, for their sakes. How else would he survive?

He looked back at the gravestone, now taking in the quote beneath their headings. _"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death"_ ...

What did it mean? It sounded like something that a Death Eater would say; he had met enough of them during his life on the run to know what they stood for. They sought ways to conquer death, and if Harry was not mistaken, their leader, Lord Voldemort, had already done this. Harry was simply unsure of how Voldemort had done so. There were ways to achieve immortality, such as the Philosopher's Stone's Elixir of Life, but Harry was quite confident that Voldemort had not used this: it was, after all, safely in his and Ginny's possession. It was why they had stolen it.

Standing upright, Harry pulled out his wand again, placed his mask back on his face, pulled his hood over his head, and conjured a large quantity of flowers, placing them on the graves. He took one final look before averting his eyes. Everything he did was for them. He wanted revenge, and he would get it. Nobody would stand in his way.

Glancing around, he again felt the suspicion that he was being watched. He held his wand at the ready, quickly running for the entrance of the graveyard. He could feel eyes, unblinking and searching, on him now, and he was not going to let anyone catch him. He had come too far to be taken to Azkaban now.

As he crossed the threshold of the graveyard, he felt a surge of magic, and he turned to see a Stunning Spell aimed directly at him. He deflected it with a sharp flick of his wand, looking over.

A man was standing several yards away from him. The man was tall, dark and lean, and Harry could tell that he simply radiated authority, whether he held a position of it or not. A wand was grasped in the man's hand, pointed directly at Harry, who did not move to strike back, but stowed his wand back in his robes. He was curious as to the man's motives: the man had aimed to Stun, not kill or cause pain. He clearly wanted to take Harry with him, but not to the Ministry.

'So it is not enough that you wreck havoc in the Muggle world, stealing precious objects from elderly men who need those objects to live, you choose to extend it to a sacred area?' he called, his voice betraying no emotion, something that, on a normal occasion, Harry would respect.

At this moment, however, Harry simply looked at him.

'If you had really watched me, you would know that not one gravestone is so much as cracked by my hands,' he called back coldly.

'Infiltration of a sacred ground is a bad enough offense,' said another man from behind Harry. He turned to see the same electric blue eye he had thought he'd seen earlier. It belonged to a tall man with a wooden leg. The blue eye was large and unattached to the other eye stream: it stared in all directions around Harry while the regular eye remained unmoving on Harry's face.

'You look familiar,' Harry said quietly, staring at the man. 'Mad-Eye Moody, wasn't it? The Auror who is responsible for filling almost all of Azkaban's cells before and after the end of the first war?'

'That's me,' said Mad-Eye Moody, looking at Harry angrily. 'You'd best know that Azkaban is where you're soon going, boy. You've caused a lot of trouble, not to mention the murders.'

'Every crime has a reason,' drawled Harry. 'My crimes are no different. But I have nothing to tell you, Mad-Eye Moody. I doubt you'd listen to a big bad criminal like me.'

Moody shot another Stunning Spell at Harry, who tilted his head sideways and allowed the spell to soar harmlessly over his shoulder. Another swish of a wand told Harry that the other man had nearly been hit by it but had blocked it.

'Oh, and you were so close, too,' sneered Harry mockingly. 'Too bad you missed. That might have made me go numb.'

'Think you're funny, do you, scum?' Moody snarled, both of his eyes staring unblinkingly at him. Harry realized a second before it happened what Moody was trying to do. He quickly raised his Occlumency barriers up, and the probe from Moody smacked harmlessly against them, effectively canceled out.

'An Occlumens, are you?' spat Moody. 'So you've got secrets. All the more reason to throw you to the Dementors. You won't confess willingly, I'm betting.'

'Am I the real bad guy here?' Harry asked coldly, staring at Moody without blinking or flinching. 'As I recall, the Ministry is allowed to murder as well. Is that so different from what I do, Moody?'

'We don't torture and kill the innocent!' roared Moody.

'You don't help them, either,' Harry pointed out, with an air of showing a child a solution to an exceedingly simple problem.

'We do what we can for them,' said the darker man behind Harry, who had not moved yet. 'You have yet to tell us what possible business you could have in a graveyard, lad.' He was quite polite, and Harry wondered if he, too, was considering the odds, weighing in what could and couldn't happen if he attacked first.

'Is it not obvious, Shacklebolt?' Moody called over sceptically, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 'He's a grave robber, too! What'd you steal from that graveyard, boy? Was the Philosopher's Stone not enough? Gold just doesn't satisfy these days?'

Harry was disappointed with Moody now. Was the man actually resorting to cheap shots? The famous man, the top Auror, the man responsible for filling Azkaban with criminals?

'Not that it concerns you,' said Harry, keeping his voice neutral although unable to prevent a bite of coldness from escaping him, 'but I was visiting the graves of some of my relatives, who died long ago. I didn't realize I was being tracked by two of the biggest jokes I have ever seen. Well ...' he looked at the man called Shacklebolt, who looked calmly surprised at Harry's explanation, 'that Shacklebolt fellow doesn't seem so bad, anyway. He, at least, doesn't speak to me as though I were a child.'

'You are a child, boy,' snarled Moody.

'I'm eighteen years old, actually,' said Harry calmly, 'therefore I am of age for almost two years now.'

Harry inwardly cursed himself for revealing his age. Aurors could use that against people. Even now, Harry could see that Moody was grinning madly, as though Christmas had come early. Moody now limped towards Harry, a dull thudding sound pulsing through the air with every step he took on his left leg.

'So, you're of age, eh?' he said, his grin widening. 'Oh, this is just excellent. You can be formerly charged and sentenced to anything an adult can be sentenced to. Hmm ... numerous thefts, numerous killings ... I think the Dementor's Kiss would suit you in this case, boy.'

Harry did not reply: he merely looked at Moody, one eyebrow raised. Moody, who could not see Harry's face, seemed to take this as fear, which made his grin widen. Underneath his cloak, Harry fingered his wand, ready to fight back at a split-second's notice.

'Nothing to say to that, boy? Perhaps you know that you deserve that punishment, do you?'

Moody continued, but Harry was not listening. He could tell that there were more people watching him now. Keeping his hand in his pocket, Harry cast a wordless human locater charm, and without looking, knew that there were at least two other people, closing in on them now. A stillness in the air told him that they were beginning to close up the Apparition fields.

_No way that'll happen,_ he thought. Keeping a firm hold on his wand, he began to wordlessly cast the counter-spells, and from the feel of it, the fields were opening again. He was not going to let them keep him here. He was not a weakling.

One of the other Aurors must have noticed the resistence, for he shouted, 'Mad-Eye, the fields won't close! Something's blocking our spells!'

Mad-Eye Moody's electric blue eye honed in on Harry instantly, who had already reinforced his own spells to make sure they held. At that instant, Harry knew that Moody could see his wand, and by extension, his hand holding it.

'He's blocking your progress wordlessly!' shouted Moody.

He whipped his wand at Harry, a Bludgeoning Hex flying from it, and Harry reacted instantly, blocking it with a flick of his own wand. He spun on the spot, seeing another spell, a Stunner, flying from Shacklebolt's wand, and blocked it as well. He pointed his wand at the air.

_'Protego maxima!'_

An enormous shield rose from Harry's wand tip, falling as a sphere around him, protecting him from further harm, but even as it hit the ground, four Stunning Spells slammed into it, causing it to shimmer in exhaustion. Harry held it as best he could, sweat pouring out of the eye holes and sides of his mask. His hood was flung off by the force of the power, and his black hair whipped around him as though a windstorm had caught him.

'You won't take me alive, Moody!' Harry roared.

Through the shield's shimmering light, which was beginning to fade, Harry saw more of his attackers. Two red-haired men were firing Stunning Spells at him as well, and one tall, dark man was firing Bludgeoning Hexes. Harry's eyes narrowed, becoming darker, and he focused his power into concentration.

'You aren't getting away, boy!' Moody shouted.

This was what Harry had been waiting for: he directed his wand at the ground. A loud bang issued from it, throwing everyone off-guard. Seizing his chance, he pointed his wand at himself and shouted, '_Geminio!_' An exact replica of himself, almost like a shell, appeared beside him, wand, cloak and all. He then Disapparated out of the circle, reappearing a few yards away beside a house, behind the attackers. He crouched behind the side of the house, waiting for their move.

'He's not moving!' shouted one of the red-haired men. 'He's just standing there!'

'That's not him!' yelled the dark man whose name had not been given. 'It's a replica! He must have Disapparated!'

Smirking, Harry pointed his wand at the man who had spoken. A flash of red light, and the man fell forward, unconscious. He directed his wand at red-haired man, threw another wordless Stunning Spell, and the man collapsed.

'Bill! Albert!' The other red-haired man looked shocked. 'They've been Stunned!'

'That blasted kid! He cloned himself and got out!' snarled Moody. 'Charlie, go back into the graveyard and see if he's there. Use _Homenum Revelio_. That will show you that someone else is there. Go, now!'

The Weasley brother ran towards the graveyard, his wand raised before him. Harry smirked, only barely resisting the urge to Stun him there and now. It was not necessary, but it would be quite interesting to see Moody's reaction, which had thus far been giving Harry the most amusement of all.

'Kingsley, go down the high road,' yelled Moody, who looked a little worried as well as livid. 'He might be trying to cause more of an issue down by the main houses by the Potters' old home, and the children cannot be exposed to such a criminal. Remember, he isn't afraid to kill people.'

The man called Kingsley Shacklebolt hurried away, his wand held in a perfect defensive position in front of him.

'Dawlish, we're going the other way, down to the side village. He could be anywhere.' Harry could now see a thickset man with wiry hair whom he had not seen previously. The man gave off a look of immense toughness. He was holding what looked to be a large bundle, but Harry recognized it a moment later as an Invisibility Cloak. 'Let's go!' Moody and Dawlish ran down the high street the opposite way, heading for the village square area.

Harry grinned under his hood. Now was his chance to decide – leave unnoticed and take no risks of being caught, or kill the lot of them one by one and risk being brought to Merlin knew where? Making up his mind instantly, he plunged a hand into his pocket and pulled out what looked to be a small mirror. Pulling it up to his face, he said, 'Ginny, it's me. Respond.'

A moment later, a red-haired figure appeared in the glass of the mirror. Ginny Weasley grinned up at him.

'What is it, Harry?' she asked. She looked to be already dressed for battle: she had her hair tied back and a black cloak hung over her shoulders. 'Weren't you visiting your parents' graves?'

'Yeah, I've done that already,' Harry replied, pulling out his wand to make sure he was not caught off-guard by one of his attackers. 'I ran into some company who seem to want to bring me somewhere. They won't take no for an answer.'

'The Aurors?' Ginny asked, frowning slightly. 'How would they have found you there?'

'No, it's not the Aurors ... well, a few of them might be, but I think it's another organization. One separate from the Ministry. For one thing, there were a few Weasleys, and none of them are with the Ministry as far as I can see. Secondly, none of them were aiming to hurt me, and the Aurors usually at least try to. These people, all of them, have been shooting Stunners at me ... well, expect for some Albert bloke, who fired Bludgeoners.'

'Albert? Albert Runcurn?' Ginny hissed. 'He's with the Ministry. What would he be doing with my dear family? Arthur Weasley hates him!'

Harry shrugged.

'Want to come and make fools of some Ministry folks, including your dear brothers? I distinctly heard the names Bill and Charlie used.'

Ginny's eyes flashed a red color for a moment, but it quickly faded, and she grinned.

'I'll be there in a moment,' she replied. 'Where are you at the moment?'

'In the square in front of the graveyard, beside the house directly across.'

A second passed, then a popping noise told him that Ginny had Apparated directly beside him. She smirked, stowing her two-way mirror into her cloak, and took Harry's arm, leaning on him. She had adorned her own silver mask to avoid being recognized.

'Hi,' she said happily.

'Hello,' he grinned back. 'Ready to fight?'

'Of course!'

Pulling out her wand, she followed behind Harry, running into the streets. They immediately ran down the street that led to the small village. As they ran, Harry called, 'I want to bring down Moody and that other guy – Dawlish, I think it was – first. Moody gave me a lot of lip when he confronted me. I want to repay him in kind.'

'Understandable,' Ginny said, grinning. 'There they are.'

Harry grabbed her hand and Disapparated on the spot, reappearing with her on a nearby rooftop. They could see the electric blue eye of Mad-Eye Moody below, the shadowed figure of Dawlish beside him. Harry crouched down to hide himself; he knew that Moody's eye could see his figure, even if it could not see his face. He was inwardl thankful, very thankful, that he had cast charms on the mask he wore. It could not be ripped off or Summoned off, nor could it be seen through.

Ginny crouched down beside him, her head just over his shoulder, her wand raised slightly.

'What are we waiting for?' she whispered.

'The moment to attack,' he replied quietly, raising a hand to shush her. 'They're surprisingly quick to notice even the smallest movement.' Ginny nodded mutely, speaking no further.

A few minutes passed, with Moody and Dawlish casting multiple different spells on the area, trying to find them. After ten minutes had passed, Harry was about ready to strike just to break the maddening silence, when he felt a swooping feeling pass over him. He could tell from the slight gasp at his right that Ginny had felt a similar feeling.

'They know we're up here,' he murmured. 'Be ready to fight back.'

Sure enough, a second later Harry heard Moody yell, 'He's up on the roof! Someone's with him! Stun them! STUN THEM!'

Three Stunning Spells flew up at them from the darkness, directly at Harry, who let out a humorless chuckle, muttering, 'Amateurs.' He whipped his wand forward sharply, causing all three Stunners to be propelled backwards in midair, flying through the sky and eventually vanishing. He jumped from his spot, pulling Ginny with him, slid down the roof and jumped over the heads of the Aurors below. Moody aimed another spell at him, a Leg-Locker, but Harry flicked his wand and it was knocked back, hitting a signpost, which flew off its spot on the ground. Harry landed gracefully on the ground some few yards away from Moody, and Ginny landed beside him.

'So you brought your little girlfriend, did you, boy?' Dawlish sneered, pointing his wand at Ginny, who made no movement other than to scoff at the man. 'Can't fight like a man, eh?'

'That's a bit rich coming from someone who just attempted to fight me six on one,' said Harry, laughing off the weak comment. 'Or is it all right for the supposed authorities to fight cowardly, Dawlish? If that's the case, you're just hypocritical and nothing more.'

'You little s–'

Harry did not let him finish his retort: the green jet of light had flown from his wand in a split-second, and Dawlish had only barely dodged it: the spell singed his robes a little.

'Aiming to kill, are you, boy?' roared Moody, who had lost the last of his self-restraint. 'You shouldn't have tried that! We might need you alive, but we don't have any qualms in taking that girl of yours into custody as a corpse!'

The moment the words had left Moody's lips, he gasped for breath: Harry had moved so fast that for a wild moment the other thought he had Disapparated. In not even a second, he had closed the distance between them, one hand around Moody's throat, the other pointing his wand at the same neck.

'I could kill you right here and now, Moody,' he hissed into Moody's face, every word dripping with malice. 'I could make you suffer in ways you've never suffered before.' His eyes narrowed, turning black, as he stared at Moody's face, which was turning purple with the strain.

'Go – to – hell – you – bastard –' Moody was choking out.

'You first,' Harry spat, and he threw Moody away from him. As Moody struggled to get up, Harry directed his wand at the old Auror and shouted, _'Crucio!'_

Moody thrashed and jerked, allowing not even a peep to leave his lips. He could not reach his wand, which had fallen from his hand, to cancel the effects of the spell. As he attempted to, Harry inched over and kicked the wand away, letting it fly into the bushes of a nearby house. Moody could not get up, but he stubbornly remained silent.

'Don't bother holding back your pain, Moody, I'll break you soon enough!' Harry jeered, raising his wand a little to intensify the power of his curse. Moody thrashed all the harder, and for the first time, a gasp of pain left his lips.

'Now that's what I want to hear!' shouted Harry. 'I want to hear you BEG!'

But he could no longer hold the spell: spinning around, he saw another spell flying at him, and as Harry dodged it, he recognized the very spell he himself had just used. Jumping back out of its way, he fired off two silent Impediment Jinxes, and he could tell from a loud grunting noise that one of them had made its mark.

Ginny, in the meantime, was locked in battle with Albert Runcurn, who had woken up and caught up to them. His Stunning Spells and Bludgeoning Hexes were packed with power, but Ginny, to Harry's pride, was blocking and dodging them with ease, firing off Killing Curses and Stunning Spells of her own. One jet of green light missed Runcurn and hit another man square in the chest, killing him long before he touched the ground.

'Was that Ogden?' shouted Shacklebolt angrily, who had just caught up as well. 'What the hell was he doing here? The Order never planned him coming!'

'Fool got himself killed!' Runcurn yelled, dodging yet another Killing Curse, which hit a house door and knocked it clean off its hinges. He retaliated with a streak of purple light that just barely missed Ginny's head: her mask teetered slightly.

The battle was getting rougher. Moody was unconscious and the man called Ogden was dead, but Runcurn and Shacklebolt were fighting fiercely against Harry, who had dived into the fray, while Ginny was parrying away various spells being fired by Dawlish. The two Weasley men had not returned.

'Come now,' called Harry mockingly, 'you're Aurors, for Merlin's sake! Can you not keep up with me?'

Whatever retort Shacklebolt had was silenced by him dodging another Killing Curse. Angrily, Shacklebolt fired off a Bone-breaking Hex, which hit Harry in the wrist.

'ARGH!'

Harry felt the crushing of his bone and dropped his wand: his right hand felt as though it were on fire. Shacklebolt made to Summon Harry's wand over, but Ginny, who had Stunned Dawlish, jumped over and grabbed it first, throwing a healing charm at Harry's wrist. It was by no means fixed, but it was no longer in pain: Harry could move his hand and fingers again. Wandlessly, he caused a streak of bright light to temporarily blind the two Aurors, who stopped firing and grasped at their eyes in pain.

'Thanks!' he called. 'I think we've had enough of this place!' Ginny nodded. He grabbed her hand tightly and turned on the spot, but realized a fraction of a second later that they were unable to Disapparate.

'They've blocked the Apparition fields!'

Dodging another jet of light, Harry could see the two Weasley brothers with their wands pointed upwards. It was obvious that they had blocked the fields. _SHIT!_ Harry thought angrily. _We have to run!_

'We have to run,' Harry shouted. 'We can't Disapparate, but once we get through the area I'm sure we'll have a clear ground to leave!'

'All right!' Ginny shouted back, grabbing his hand again. 'But I don't think I can run! One of their spells hit my ankle!'

Without waiting, Harry bent down and grabbed Ginny's legs, throwing her over his shoulder. She was facing behind him, as Harry had planned. Unfortunately, Dawlish was waking up, and the blinding flash that Harry had sent at Shacklebolt and Runcurn was wearing off.

'Ginny,' he whispered into her ear, 'while I run, you fire any spell you think of. Killing Curses, Stunners, Bludgeoners, Bone-breakers ... the sky's the limit, just fire them! I'll move as fast as I can!'

'Gotcha!' Ginny replied, aiming her wand in front of her over Harry's shoulder.

Shacklebolt, Dawlish, and Runcurn were awake now. Shacklebolt had performed a spell on Moody that had removed some of the pain, and Moody was on his feet now. Before any of the four could do so much as point their wands at the duo, however, Harry had began to run. Years of working out and running from other authorities had made him quite physically strong as well as fast: even with the weight of Ginny, which was admittedly not a lot, hanging over his shoulder, he was able to outrun most people.

'STUN THEM!' Moody roared. Due to being unable to run on his bad leg, he could not follow. He fired off six Stunning Spells in fast motion, four of which missed their targets and two of which were parried by Ginny.

Harry ran as fast as he could, one arm around Ginny's waist to hold her steady, the other holding his wand in case another attacker appeared in front of them. As he came up to a sharp turn, he shouted for Ginny to hang on tightly, lowered himself slightly to run faster, and jumped, propelling himself off of the wall and landing into another run going right from the way he was going before.

Two Stunning Spells flew by him, hitting the houses around him as he ran. Another spell, a Trip Jinx came close to hitting him in the ankle but was parried at the last second by Ginny, whose mask was slipping now. It was now only covering her eyes and nose, and Harry could tell that she could barely see.

'I'll outrun the spells!' he shouted. 'Pull on that mask!'

The air was beginning to thin out, and Harry knew that they weren't far from the Apparition point now. Even as he thought this, he could feel the air beginning to thicken again, and he knew the Weasley brothers were behind them, casting their anti-Apparition charms everywhere around them.

'Stun the Weasleys, or kill them, or something!' Harry screamed. 'They're closing up the fields again!'

Ginny fired off two more spells, and from the pale green light Harry could tell that one of them was a Killing Curse, and from the shout from behind and the thud of something hitting the ground, Harry could tell that one of them had been hit by it.

'Runcurn's down!' shouted Shacklebolt, firing another Bone-breaker at Harry. 'Hit by that last Killing Curse! Forget Stunning, just beat them down so we can catch them!'

At last, Harry felt the air open up completely, and he knew that the fields were fully open. He grasped Ginny tightly.

'Ginny, I have to put you down!' he shouted, loosening his grip on the young female over his shoulder. 'We have to Disapparate now, and if I do it while with you over my shoulder, you'll be splinched! Be ready to land on your – Ginny? What's wrong?'

Ginny did not reply; she had gone oddly limp on Harry's shoulder. For one horrific moment Harry thought she had been hit by a nasty curse, and then realized that she was still holding her wand tightly, her knuckles turning white. Her eyes were on the Weasley brothers, who had fallen back, both looking horror-stricken at the two running from them. It was as though they couldn't believe their eyes.

'Never mind them! Get ready to land!' Harry shouted again, now losing his patience; if they did not go now, they'd lose their chance.

'All right,' she said, betraying no emotion in her voice.

With a sudden halt, Harry stopped in his tracks, threw up a shield with his wand and put Ginny down. Stumbling slightly on her bad ankle, she grasped his hand tightly: they raised their wands and Disapparated from the spot, the shimmering shield dying as they vanished.

* * *

As he watched the two masked partners vanish on the spot, the shield falling as they left, Kingsley Shacklebolt turned to the people with him. The two Weasleys, Bill and Charlie, were staring at the spot that the two had Disapparated from as though it had done something horrible as well. Albert Runcurn's body was far behind them. John Dawlish stood beside Kingsley, wondering the same thing that he was – what had distracted the Weasleys?

A moment later, Mad-Eye appeared, carrying Albert Runcurn's body.

'What the hell happened, Kingsley?' he shouted angrily. 'I thought there were anti-Apparition spells up to stop them from escaping? _Why aren't there anti-Apparition spells now?_'

'I don't know why, but the Weasley brothers flinched for too long, allowing the duo of thieves to escape our grip!' Kingsley shouted back. He was as angry as Mad-Eye. 'None of our spells were making contact, Mad-Eye! The bloke was running too fast to be hit, and the girl was blocking everything we were throwing at her! We're up against an extremely skilled wizard and witch, Mad-Eye.'

Mad-Eye, who had scarcely heard what Kingsley had said after the first sentence, rounded on Bill and Charlie.

'_What the hell were you thinking_?' he roared. 'You let them escape when you could have blocked their Apparition again! _Why didn't you_?'

Neither Bill nor Charlie answered; both looked as though they were going to be sick.

'STOP STANDING THERE LIKE TROUT OUT OF POTION AND ANSWER ME!' Moody snarled, fingering his wand in his fury. 'WE JUST LOST OUR BEST CHANCE AT CATCHING THEM! MERLIN ONLY KNOWS WHERE THEY'LL END UP NOW! TELL ME WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY F–'

'Mad-Eye,' Bill interrupted quietly, 'we didn't stop without good reason.'

'It had better be something decent, Weasley, and not more of –'

'He said something,' said Charlie, following his older brother's lead. 'He said something that we would never have expected. Something that made us realize we couldn't hurt that red-haired girl that was with him.'

'WHAT DID HE SAY?'

'He said "Ginny",' Charlie whispered.

No one spoke for a moment. Mad-Eye, still furious with them, seemed to be digesting this. Bill had still not looked away. It was Kingsley who spoke first, breaking the silence.

'When you say Ginny,' he said slowly, 'do you mean –?'

'Yes,' said Bill quietly. 'We mean our younger sister. We mean the sister we had thought died ten or eleven years ago, the sister that our mother and father told us had died not long after being kidnapped by Death Eaters in a market far away from here. Ginevra Weasley, better known as Ginny, would have been about seventeen years old right now – around the same age as that red-haired girl who just Disapparated away.'

* * *

Author's Notes: Whew. That one took a lot out of me. The entire confrontation and battle after the graveyard part took me about three days to write, because I had to keep removing and adding things over and over again to make it appeasing. Hopefully this one works out for everyone. I realize there are some parts that are a bit iffy, but ... well, that comes with fanfiction work. The only thing I can do is improve.

So the eldest Weasley brothers have found out the truth, and have told the three Aurors with them. I'm guessing some of you are wondering why Albert Runcurn isn't a Death Eater in this fic – well, my answer is that he wasn't a confirmed one in book 7. He was not stated to take part in the final arc, and while he was part of the new regime, so were many of the original Aurors and Ministry staff, including people like Mafalda Hopkirk, so he's an Auror in this version. Remember, the whole story for this one isn't out yet; I could still surprise you. Hehe.

That's all for my A/N. Next update should be about a week at the most, as before.


	3. Chapter 3: The Prophecized Enemies

A/N: Story Name: A Life of Rebellion

A/N: Letters, thoughts, Parseltongue, and some other forms of writing in this story will be written in Italics.

Summary: At the age of six, a young boy runs away from his negligent and cruel relatives. He becomes a thief, an assassin and a division in the war between Light and Dark. With a faithful companion at his side, a battle-scarred Harry Potter searches for the truth about his past.

Disclaimer: JKR owns the series as a whole, I own the fanfic-made and self-created modifications in this story in particular. I take no claim over the Harry Potter series. Any review saying otherwise will be automatically deleted.

**Chapter 3: The Prophecized Enemies**

Lord Voldemort paced his study in Riddle Manor, struggling to think of a plan of action. It had been nearly a month since he had seen the light of day or the darkness of nightfall, and it was beginning to get to him. He needed to find a way to manipulate the odds in his favor, and even as he tried to he knew it was close to impossible at this given time, with so little information.

The theft of the Philosopher's Stone did not help matters right now; as a matter of fact, it made things all the more irksome. The thief who had stolen the Philosopher's Stone from right under the wizarding world's nose continued to wander into Voldemort's thoughts, but no matter how many times he considered every possibility, he could not come up with any detail or kink leading to the identity of the thief. All he had to go by from his spy was that the thief was young and quite tall with long, dark hair. Given how useless this information was, he had killed his spy, who had watched the thief run from Muggle London just after the theft, out of pure aggravation. That was not the kind of puzzle that he needed to deal with right now.

Voldemort walked over to his scarlet colored chair, sinking down into it, and rubbed his forehead. The constant thinking was giving him a massive headache, which even his expert Occlumency shields could not keep him from experiencing. It thoroughly irritated him. For the first time in a few years, he wondered if making a reptilian form for his human body was a bad idea. Even as the thought occured to him, he knew that this was not the problem. He had been having problems ever since his original body had been destroyed by the Potter kid.

The Potter kid ... Shortly after recovering a body over a decade ago, Voldemort had been informed by one of his Death Eaters about Harry Potter's disappearance. Disappearance wasn't even the proper word for it: the boy had vanished off the face of the earth. He had not been seen since. The wizarding world had, as a whole, proclaimed him dead before the year that followed was out. But Voldemort knew better. Voldemort knew that he must be the one to kill Harry Potter, that they would both be forced to live until that day occurred. He had found out about the full prophecy from Rookwood, one of his spies in the Ministry, not long after he had been reborn. He knew that it was his destiny to kill Harry Potter, and in turn, Harry Potter's destiny to kill him. It was effectively one or the other. The boy could not be killed by any hand aside from Voldemort's.

And Voldemort would not have had it any other way, because as long as his powers held, he could not be killed. It was a win/win situation for him.

A loud knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

'Enter,' Voldemort hissed.

The door opened wide, and Bellatrix Lestrange walked in, her dark, heavy eyes taking in the office before resting on her lord. She walked into the middle of the room and sunk to one knee, bowing deeply and respectfully.

'My Lord,' she said quietly, 'I have news.'

'Stand up, Bella,' snapped Voldemort impatiently, getting to his feet; Bellatrix, as his lieutenant, had no business on her knees. She was, after all, his second-in-command. She stood up, keeping very still, and he continued, pacing the floor. 'What is this news you bring me that interrupts my thoughts?'

'I have been told, my Lord, that Runcurn has been killed,' she began, looking untroubled at the statement, as though the murder was beneath her notice. She waited for him to speak, to let her continue.

'Yes ... and?' Voldemort asked impatiently, continuing to pace behind his desk.

'The spy, who was under a Disillusionment Charm as well as a Zero-Detection Spell stated that he was killed by a young girl with red hair, who was being carried over the shoulder of a young boy with black hair. According to the spy, the boy and girl were running from the Order and some Aurors.'

Voldemort stopped pacing at once, looking at Bellatrix for the first time since she had entered the room.

'Do you mean the same boy who stole the Philosopher's Stone?' he said quietly.

'Our spy proclaimed that this boy had the same structure and hair that the thief had,' said Bellatrix, not once looking away from Voldemort. 'My Lord, we're dealing with something out of the ordinary this time. This boy does not seem to have ever set foot in Hogwarts, or Durmstrang, or any wizarding school known to wizardkind, and yet he is fighting on a level that far outstrips Aurors and even our Death Eaters.'

'Has the boy run into any of my Death Eaters before now?' asked Voldemort.

'I cannot be sure, my Lord, but I do know that we have had various reports over the years of people like Dolohov, and Mulciber, and Wormtail, and even my husband, Rodolphus, running into a strange youth that either matches them in skill and strength and, in cases like Wormtail, outstrips them completely.'

'Yes, Wormtail has told me about a strange boy who cast a Bludgeoning Hex so powerful that it threw him halfway across a neighborhood area in the Muggle domain they were in,' Voldemort said, remembering how injured Wormtail had been the next time he had seen him. Even with the silver hand Voldemort had granted his most cowardly servant, Wormtail was simply not a strong adversary in battle when faced with an opponent. He could, however, perform the Unforgivable Curses, and his rat Animagus form proved useful.

'Did this spy take part in trying to subdue our thieving friend?' he asked quietly, once again looking directly at Bellatrix. She was not so sufficient at Occlumency that she could keep her mind fully protected; he could see into it with ease. He merely wanted to hear the answer from her lips.

'No, my Lord, he did not,' said Bellatrix hesitantly.

'Very well,' said Voldemort, nodding at her, though his insides were bursting with anger; how was he going to catch and determine the identity of this thief if his followers did not take part in trying to catch him? He, Lord Voldemort, could only do so much. 'Who was the spy?'

Bellatrix hesitated again, this time not immediately answering.

'Bella, you can tell me yourself, or I can hold you responsible,' said Voldemort dangerously, his eyes flashing scarlet. 'I can also look into your mind and see for myself, but Lord Voldemort has enough respect for you to hear you say it out loud.'

Bellatrix did not look relieved at these words.

'R-Rabastan,' she said quietly. 'It was my husband's brother, Rabastan.'

Voldemort looked disappointed at this. He had thought that Rabastan Lestrange had far more sense than this. He was one of Voldemort's stronger Death Eaters, after all ...

'Very well,' he whispered, his voice betraying anger. 'You may leave, Bella. Send your dear brother-in-law to me. Lord Voldemort has some ... words ... to share with him at this moment.'

Bellatrix looked relieved now. Bowing low, she left the room. A few minutes later, Rabastan Lestrange walked into the room, looking visibly frightened. He seemed to know why he was here; perhaps Bellatrix had told him? But no, that was not the case ... his worthless mind told Voldemort this.

'Y-You wished to see me, my Lord?' he asked, lowering himself down on one knee and bowing, his eyes on the floor.

'I did indeed, Rabastan,' said Voldemort quietly, this time allowing no emotion to be betrayed from his voice. He looked coldly down at the kneeling figure before him, sweat pouring from the short brown hair on the man's head. 'But before I begin, we have one thing to discuss. You did not knock on the door before entering.'

He raised his wand. '_Crucio_!'

Rabastan fell to the floor, struggling not to scream, but after a few seconds could not stop himself and cried out in pain. After thirty seconds had passed, Voldemort lifted the curse.

'That was only a small portion of what you will receive today, Rabastan. You have greatly displeased me.' His lips curled into an angry snarl. 'Lord Voldemort has been informed that you were the one who spied, under protective spells, on the thief who was in Godric's Hollow. Though protected, you did nothing to attack this boy. This makes Lord Voldemort very angry. For what reason did you do nothing to stop the boy from escaping?'

Rabastan stiffened as though Voldemort had put him under another curse.

'Well, Rabastan?'

'My Lord, I ...' Rabastan seemed to be choosing his words carefully. 'I ... did not know that I was to attack the boy. I had thought that my job was to keep watch of him, and only to keep watch. Had I known that I was to subdue him and bring him to your Lordship, I would have done so with the utmost haste.'

'So I see,' said Voldemort coldly. 'You did not know, then, that Lord Voldemort wished to have the boy brought to him, then? You did not know that I wished for you to Stun the boy, or Petrify him, or any form of temporary subduement that would enable you to Disapparate with him directly to me? You assumed otherwise, in other words?'

'My Lord, I –'

'Enough! _Crucio_!'

Once again, for a full minute this time, Rabastan fell to the floor, crying out in pain. When Voldemort lifted the curse, Rabastan did not get up immediately.

'Get up, Rabastan,' snapped Voldemort angrily. 'You deserve this pain, you know this well. You deserve to be punished for not doing your job. Be thankful that the price you pay is mere pain, and not your life, Rabastan. You are very lucky that Lord Voldemort still has uses for you in the near future.'

'My Lord ... thank you, my Lord ...'

'Now leave, Rabastan. Get out of my sight before I decide otherwise.'

Rabastan fled from the room, only barely avoiding a third Cruciatus Curse, which broke on the wall outside of Voldemort's study, having been thrown out of the utmost irritation.

* * *

Back in Gyarta's Villa, a small distance from Godric's Hollow, two people were sleeping late for the first time in a long time. At precisely ten-thirty, Harry Potter woke up, having had the single worst sleep he had encountered in a long time. On his side, Ginny Weasley was still fast asleep, facing him. She looked quite peaceful, and Harry wondered if it was worth trying to wake her up now, when she was sure to try and strangle him for not letting her wake up on her own.

At that moment, he saw an owl standing on the table just outside the room, staring at them. It had a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ in its beak. Frowning slightly, he swung his long legs over the side of the bed and stood up, walking out of the room and over to the owl. He held out his hand under the owl's beak, and it dropped the newspaper into it obediently. Harry noticed that the owl looked quite old. For some reason, it took off through the fireplace without waiting for payment.

He took one look at the headline and gasped, dropping the paper back on the table.

_SHIT!_

He ran back into the room and over to his partner and girlfriend's side.

'Ginny?' Harry whispered, nudging her slightly. 'Ginny, wake up.'

She did not respond but to give a soft snore and sleep on, twitching his hand away.

'Ginny, wake up!' Harry said, a little louder this time, now shaking her shoulder a little. 'This is important! It's time to get up!'

'Mmm ...' was all Ginny's muffled reply was before snuggling deeper into her pillow, still resolutely not waking up. Her red hair hung around her face so that Harry could not see her eyes, which were more than likely squinted to keep asleep.

'Ginny, c'mon, it's time to get up!'' Harry said yet again, shaking her now.

'Go 'way,' she replied, shaking him off again. 'Wanna sleep.'

'Come on, Ginny, this is really important! I have something I need to show you!'

'M'eh,' was all she murmured, turning around to her other side. Harry sighed. Quickly conjuring a bucket of water wandlessly and wordlessly, he tiptoed over to Ginny's side of the bed, holding the bucket on head level with himself. He had just reached the side and was within a few inches of Ginny when he heard her murmur, almost threateningly, 'Don't even think about it, Harry.'

Harry stopped, momentarily following Ginny's words and not thinking about it. The moment passed, and it came back into his mind with a small grin on his part. He let his magic flow into his hand, and forced the bucket, water and all, to levitate through the air. He was confident that Ginny had not seen it. He brought it to a height that Ginny would not see while on her side, and let it hang over her head. He then moved back.

'All right, I won't,' he said, keeping all trace of laughter from his voice. Ginny did not reply.

After placing a good few feet between himself and the bed, in which he was closer to the door now than to her, he willed the bucket to tip. The water poured out and splashed all over her face and torso.

Harry ran out of the room, not looking back to hear the spluttering and the screams of, 'HARRY POTTER, GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!'

A moment later, a drenched Ginny walked out of the room as well, her hair and nightdress completely soaked. She did not have her wand on her, and Harry noticed that she was shivering slightly. He supposed he could have used slightly warmer water, but he had to get the point across.

'You're a dead man, Potter,' she hissed through her lank hair, which hung over her face.

'You can kill me later,' he replied, throwing himself into a chair and nodding at the newspaper that the owl had delivered. 'Take a look at the headline. I think you might be angrier at that.'

She continued to glare at him for interrupting her sleep so horribly, but listened to his words and walked over to the newspaper, picking it up. She, like Harry, only had to glance at the headline once before gasping and dropping it, as though it had randomly caught fire.

'They can't know!' she exclaimed, her voice quivvering with anger. 'How can they?'

'Read and find out, I guess,' Harry replied, his own emotions running wild. They had been successful in hiding their identities for ten years, him for twelve. How was it that they had suddenly found out? It didn't seem possible at all.

Ginny, meanwhile, had picked up the newspaper again and read past the headline.

"_**One of Two Identities of 'Renegade Duo' Revealed"**_

_Identity of the female companion of the thief who stole the Philosopher's Stone confirmed. See page 3 for details._

'You'd better come and read this with me, Harry,' said Ginny quietly, barely able to contain her own fury. 'It looks bad for us.' Nodding, he stood up and came to stand behind her, reading the article over her shoulder. He wandlessly cast a Drying Charm on her as he did, erasing all trace of water completely from her hair and nightdress.

_Female renegade: a Weasley in disguise._

_By Rita Skeeter_

'I've always hated that woman,' hissed Harry. 'From what I've read from random newspapers over the years, she has a knack of knowing things she should not know ...'

'Shush,' said Ginny, 'and read.'

_One the 22nd of April, the Philosopher's Stone, created and used by famous alchemist Nicholas Flamel, was stolen from Mr Flamel's home by an unknown youth, who was described as tall with long black hair. Sources indicate that the youth was indeed male, and witnesses claim that the young man has an intense hatred of Muggles, having killed one Muggle man in his own home and destroying a Muggle vehicle, with the Muggle man in it, ruthlessly, as well as knocking back several other Muggle "policemen" and their vehicles with a single attack, all while escaping the scene of the theft. Mr Flamel died three days later, his six hundred seventy-two year old self not able to live without the Elixir of Life, which is formed from the Stone._

_However, this is not the only description of destruction, murder and theft that the _Daily Prophet_ has received over the years, and all of them certainly seem related to this horrid night of mass murder._

_'I remember seeing a young man with the same appearance, albeit a bit younger and probably not as tall, running through another sector of Muggle London about three years ago, dressed the same way and killing anyone who tried to stop him in his tracks,' says Emmeline Vance, a member of the organization known as the Order of the Phoenix. 'I myself was in Muggle London at the time, doing some late-afternoon shopping. The youth killed two men as he ran, all because they tried to find out why he was running in the first place with a wand in one hand and a knife that was covered in blood in the other.'_

_Certainly, it seems that occurances such as this have been noticed many times over the years by this nameless follower of the Dark Rites. But as we have confirmed, this young man, whom authorities have confirmed to be eighteen years old at this time, is not alone, and certainly has not been alone, with the young lady in question for company for years now._

_'She was with the male youth a few nights ago, in the graveyard area of Godric's Hollow,' claims Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror of the Ministry. 'They had been infiltrating the graveyard of the town, presumably looking for things to steal or destroy. No one can deny that disrespecting a holy ground such as a graveyard is an unspeakable offence. The boy, however, denied even so much as touching a single gravestone. He claimed to have been paying his respects to descendents of his own. When confronted about the issue, however, he attacked us, fleeing afterwards. The girl joined him halfway through the confrontation, and escaped with him. Some of our partners, who wish to remain nameless, heard the young male say the girl's name loud enough to be heard. It was "Ginny".'_

_Yes, these sources do seem accurate, but it leaves questions. Why would this nameless male and a girl who is presumed to be the long-since missing Ginny Weasley appear in Godric's Hollow, and why would they appear in the graveyard of all places? Was it simply as innocent as visiting the graves of long passed relatives? Or could there be another reason, one linking to the crimes that this duo have committed in the last few years?_

_'We cannot be sure about the girl,' says Shacklebolt, 'although there have been cases where the unknown thief has been seen with an accomplice. One can only assume that the accomplice, who has been mentioned several times, and the young girl are one in the same. The only questions remaining are the identity of the young man, and the location of both.'_

_The Ministry of Magic has placed a reward out for any information leading to the capture of Miss Ginny Weasley and this unknown boy. Twenty thousand Galleons will be offered to the person or persons who can lead the Aurors of the Ministry to either person, and double for both. One can only hope that these troublesome criminals can be brought to justice before anyone else is injured or killed at their hands._

Harry reached the end of the article and looked at Ginny, who, for her part, did not look terrified, but furious.

'Well,' he said timidly, knowing how well Ginny's temper could run when she was extremely angry, 'look on the bright side ... they don't know _where_ you are, right?'

'I can't believe this!' she screeched, her voice ricocheting off the walls and ceiling, anger coursing through her. 'I just can't believe! They hear my first name, my childhood nickname, and tie it to me instantly! This was my brothers, those Weasleys, I just know it! They were there at the time, they kept trying to block the Apparition fields each time they opened. Oh, Harry, this explains how we were able to escape easily in the end: they heard my name and hesitated, not reaching the barriers in time!'

'That Shacklebolt bloke,' said Harry quietly, looking back down at the article, on a train of thought of his own, 'seemed all right when he confronted me in front of the graveyard. He wasn't accusatory, but asked me what I was doing there and seemed to believe my answer. It was Moody that was being an arrogant idiot about it, throwing insults and falsifications at me whenever I said anything. Why would Shacklebolt suddenly take a leaf out of Moody's book and accuse me similarly?'

'Who knows, and who cares?' snapped Ginny, wandlessly incinerating the newspaper without realizing it, and throwing herself into a nearby chair. 'I want to know why my brothers would care that I suddenly appeared out in the open again. Did they think I was dead or something?'

'Probably,' said Harry, seeing what Ginny was getting at and entering her angry ponderings at once. 'Your dear father more than likely told them so not long after you vanished from the public eye.'

Ginny's eyes flashed scarlet with rage at the thought of Arthur Weasley, but returned to her normal brown color at once: she seemed to be trying to diminish, or at least control, her anger and fury. It worked, if not just slightly; she was able to breathe normally.

'It was only a matter of time before one of us was found out,' said Harry calmly, sitting down across from her. 'I just hate the fact that I was the one who got you found out. _Accio Firewhisky._' A bottle of alcohol zoomed over to Harry as though it had appeared out of nowhere and he downed half of it in one long swig.

'That was a mistake, we both know that,' Ginny replied, staring at the smouldering remains of the paper sitting on the table in front of her; the anger had finally died down enough that she was calm and collected again. She leaned back a little in her chair. 'Like you said, we were bound to be figured out eventually, if not one at a time. _Accio Butterbeer._' Another bottle zoomed over, this time to Ginny, who took a smaller gulp. She looked disdainfully at the Firewhisky in Harry's hand. 'I don't know how you can drink that stuff so early, Harry. It's not even eleven yet.'

'It helps, actually,' Harry said gruffly, staring at the bottle. 'I just had what could quite possibly be the worst sleep I've ever had, and Firewhisky helps distract me from it, not to mention wake me up. I like Butterbeer and all, but Firewhisky is my drink through and through.'

Ginny stared at him.

'Was it your scar again?' she asked, sparing a quick glance at the lightning bolt-shaped trademark on Harry's forehead before staring Harry full in the eyes.

'I think so,' said Harry, rubbing the scar idly. It was prickling slightly, something he could not understand at all: he had envoked his Occlumency barriers to their fullness right before going to sleep, as he almost always did. 'Whatever this problem is, it's outside of the realm of mental defenses, which makes me think that it's a unique problem. Occlumency usually ceases all causes of internal entrance from outside presences, yet for some reason I can always feel some kind of emotion every time my scar burns.' He rubbed it again. 'This time I felt fury. Someone was really angry, and I could feel every moment of it.'

He looked at Ginny full in the face, seeing her eyes narrow in concentration.

'Can you look into my mind and see what's in there? Another presence, or a lingering piece of Legilimency from the past, or something? I'll lower my barriers for you.'

'I guess,' said Ginny, 'though you probably shouldn't expect much. Legilimency only shows me memories, not physical embodiments.'

'No,' said Harry, shaking his head. 'That's only a lower level of Legilimency and Occlumency. If you concentrate hard enough at your stage, you should be able to see presences inside my mind as well as my memories. Kind of like the person as well as the book, I guess.'

Ginny merely nodded, doubting this but trusting that Harry knew what he was talking about. She went back into the bedroom and returned moments later holding her wand. She did not want to take chances with wandless Legilimency, which could sometimes affect a person's mind negatively if not done correctly. She raised her wand and pointed it at Harry's eyes, which remained unmoving and unblinking in a locked gaze on her. As he was just under a head taller than her, this was a little tricky.

'Ready?' Ginny asked, and upon Harry's nod, she chanted, 'one – two – three – _Legilimens_!'

Harry stood still, watching different scenes playing through his mind's eye: he was three, and Dudley had just thrown a slice of pie at him, telling his mother that Harry had taken it from the fridge ... he was four, and his uncle was dragging him to the cupboard for beating Dudley on a test, yelling about Harry cheating and copying off of Dudley ... he was ten, and he was staring at a letter from a school called Hogwarts, throwing it away and burning it with his wand ... he was a year old, and a tall, thin man was pointing a long wand at his face, having just killed a red-haired woman in front of him ... the memory seemed fixed, as he watched the man level the wand with Harry's one-year-old forehead and mutter the words of the Killing Curse, and watched as it rebounded on the man, destroying his body instantly ... for some reason, something more seemed to happen ... a large white cloud rose and vanished, and a separate, smaller one latching to Harry's forehead, entering through a bleeding scar, which was shaped like a lightning bolt ...

He felt his mind fly back into his body, and he was once again staring down at Ginny, whose wand was hanging at her side and who seemed to be in a state of shock.

'Harry, did – did I just see what happened when Voldemort attacked you as an infant?' she asked quietly.

'I think so,' he whispered, keeping his thoughts fixed on the memory of Voldemort's attack on him. Whatever had happened to Voldemort had affected Harry as well, if that small cloud of what looked like smoke was anything to be concerned about. What had it been? Was it still there? Was Harry somehow connected to Lord Voldemort through the scar on his forehead, and that was how he was feeling different emotions randomly?

'Are you all right?' asked Ginny, now staring Harry full in the eyes again.

Harry did not reply immediately, but stared over Ginny's head, seeing nothing and yet everything ... the idea that he was connected to Voldemort, whom he had not met once since that fateful Hallowe'en night, seemed almost absurd, and yet it explained so much ...

'Harry?' she said again, still in a quiet voice.

'I'm all right,' he replied, shaking himself out of his slight reveries. 'I'm just concerned ...'

'I imagine you would be,' Ginny said, nodding in understanding. She moved closer to Harry and wrapped her arms around him, her head tucked under Harry's chin. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her in turn, pulling her as close as he could without suffocating her. He enjoyed the moments where they could simply be normal seventeen and eighteen year olds, where they could stop thinking about their worries temporarily, even though they had no choice but to worry for the rest of their lives now. A few minutes passed, and Ginny looked up at him, and he at her. They kissed quietly, pulling apart after a minute.

'We're not like Voldemort,' she whispered, her gaze locked in his.

'Sometimes I question that judgment,' Harry whispered back, realizing something else. 'I – we – hate Muggles just as much as Lord Voldemort does. We kill them when we see them as well. Hell, I killed a Muggle while I was running with the Stone, just because his Muggle alarm went off –'

Ginny cut him off with a look, and he shut his mouth, staring at her, still locked in the embrace.

'Remember, we're on the run simply because we're renegades,' she said, flicking her head slightly. 'If we were to ever turn ourselves in, we'd be sentenced to Azkaban for life at a minimum, if not given the Dementor's Kiss right away. The thing is, we're too skilled with magic to ever let them catch us. We outclassed Moody and his pals in Godric's Hollow, and we can outclass the Ministry and that Order of the Phoenix if they ever find us. We're not weak, Harry. We don't fear death. That's what differs us from Voldemort and his Death Eaters.'

'You're right,' Harry murmured, seeing the truth in her words. Sighing in relief at the uplift in his thoughts, as well as the ceasing of the prickling in his scar, he allowed himself to sway slightly, not really caring about everything around him at that precise moment.

* * *

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a famous place. It was world reknown as the best school for magic in the wizarding world. It was a large castle, and it taught many different, sometimes unique classes. But what people loved about it most was the feeling of belonging, of acceptance, for having magical ability.

At that moment, in the Headmaster's office of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the current residing Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, was sitting at his desk, his fingertips together in front of his face, and chewing on one of his prized sherbet lemons. He loved sherbet lemons. He had taken a fancy to them back when the parties celebrating Lord Voldemort's supposed death had come up in both Muggle and Wizard areas. He had been eating them ever since, enjoying their flavor.

Across the desk sat Bill and Charlie Weasley, who looked similar to how they looked a few nights ago in Godric's Hollow, when they had realized that their little sister, the girl they thought had died at the age of seven, was still alive and teamed up with a well-known magical terrorist, as well as appearing to be just as ruthless as said terrorist. Ten years had changed her forever.

After a few minutes had passed, Dumbledore spoke.

'Once again, you're sure that this is your sister, your youngest sibling after Mr Ronald, that you saw on the run with our mysterious thieving friend in Godric's Hollow?' he asked slowly, not wanting to sound accusing.

'Yes, it is,' said Bill Weasley, staring at his hands folded in his lap. He did not dare look Dumbledore in the eye; he did not know why himself. 'That's our little sister, Professor.'

'Please, William, call me Albus,' said Professor Dumbledore kindly, peering at the eldest Weasley child over his half-moon glasses. 'That goes for you, too, Charles. We are all friends here, and we can speak on a first-name basis. I have not been your professor for nearly a decade, gentlemen.'

'Thank you, Albus,' said Charlie quietly, keeping his eyes fixed downward. Bill did not say anything.

'Now, gentlemen, what can I do to help you with your grieving process?' Dumbledore asked, again in a kind, almost grandfatherly voice.

'There's little that you can do, Albus,' said Bill sadly, 'or anybody for that matter. Our father told us years ago that Ginny had died shortly after two Muggle men had kidnapped her from just outside the Leaky Cauldron. We believed him ... now we don't know if we can ever believe or trust him again.'

'Now, now, don't say that,' soothed Dumbledore. 'Your father probably said what he thought had happened. It is never easy for a brother to lose a sister, but it is far harder for a father to lose a daughter.'

'Yes, sir,' said Charlie in a low voice, 'but that doesn't explain why he said this only a week after Ginny disappeared.'

'In cases of disappearances, the Aurors are only assigned to the search for about that long,' said Dumbledore regretfully, looking thoroughly angry at this regulation stated by the Ministry. Charlie said nothing. For a few minutes, the two eldest Weasley brothers merely stared at the carpet in front of them, and Dumbledore gave them their silence, knowing they needed it. The silence was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

'Enter, please,' said Professor Dumbledore quietly, but loud enough to be heard from the spiral staircase.

The door opened, and four people walked in: Aberforth Dumbledore, Fred Weasley, George Weasley and Professor Severus Snape. The latter man looked troubled, but a different look of troubling than the Weasley twins, who looked downright horrified.

'Good evening, Aberforth, Severus,' said Albus with a touch bit more happiness, 'and to you, too, Frederic and George. To what do I owe this pleasure from all of you?'

'We heard that our brothers were up here, and we wanted to be here, too,' said Fred, shrugging.

'I require a private word with you,' said Snape and Aberforth at the same time. They turned toward each other, scowling angrily.

'Look, Snape, I'm his brother and I have something important to discuss with him, about that kid who stole the Stone,' said Aberforth menacingly. 'Whatever you have to say can wait, I'm sure.'

'Matters that pertain to the Dark Lord and his plans are a trifle more important, I think, Mr Dumbledore,' hissed Professor Snape angrily. 'He has come to realize something bad, and I believe that Headmaster Dumbledore deserves to know immediately, given that he's the one leading this entire battle against the Dark Lord.'

'Don't test me, Snape!' snapped Aberforth.

'Stop, please, both of you!' said Albus loudly, rising to his feet and holding up both hands. 'We are in the midst of those who are grieving for lost loved ones!'

Both Aberforth and Snape stopped at once, staring at Professor Dumbledore, before nodding.

'Misters Weasley, I am afraid that I must go and have two private words with my brother and professor,' said Albus quietly, looking at the four Weasleys, who nodded silently. 'I shall be back to comfort you when they have told me what they need to tell me. And please, if you get hungry, I have sherbet lemons and lemon drops on the table if you want them.'

'Thank you, Albus,' said Bill and Charlie together. Fred and George just looked up at him and silently nodded, whispering, 'yeah ... thanks, Professor.'

Nodding at all four of them, Albus walked out of the office with Aberforth and Severus, stopping at the bottom of the staircase. He placed a hand on the back of the gargoyle which guarded his office, and it jumped aside, recognizing his magical signal as Headmaster. He walked through the threshold of the doorway, and stood aside, allowing the two with him to pass through. He led them to a classroom nearby and directed them in, closing and locking the door behind him. Albus then sat down on a desk, watching as Aberforth sat down in a chair and Severus Snape stood up, his arms folded and a slight scowl on his face.

'So ... to what do I owe the pleasure, Aberforth?' Albus said with a trace of concern in his voice. 'Severus, we will start with Aberforth because what you have to tell me, I think, is for my ears only,' he added, seeing Snape open his mouth to speak. Snape closed it, looking a little impatient.

'Albus, we've found out the name and location of the kid's hideout,' said Aberforth at once, sitting up straight, his stringy gray hair hanging limp from his head. 'It's called Gyarta's Villa, and it can be found just to the east. As far as I know, it is only a small assortment of houses, and nothing else, but since the thief can Apparate and Disapparate, that hardly matters.'

'Good. Very good.' Albus stood up, plunging a hand into his robes. He pulled out a small object that had the appearance of a Muggle cigarette lighter. He handed it to Aberforth, who took it, looking a little surprised. 'If we are to catch this young man and who we assume to be Miss Ginevra Weasley, we must take them by surprise. I doubt they are under a Fidelius Charm, as they have no one there to be the caster. Therefore, their lodgings must surely be warded against outside invasion. Bring our best cursebreakers to lower the wards and take the two. We must get to them before Cornelius does. If it helps, tell them that we mean no harm, but alas, that might not work anyway, as Moody has shown.'

'Very well, Albus,' said Aberforth shortly, pocketing the lighter and walking away, unlocking the door as he did. He left without another word.

Dumbledore watched his brother go, sighing deeply.

'Ah, Aberforth ... I daresay it will be a very long time to come, if ever, before you finally forgive me ...' he whispered, a solitary tear trickling down his cheek. He brushed it away, looking over at Snape, who had watched the exchance silently and now stepped closer, unfolding his arms.

'Yes, well,' Severus began, looking a little put-out at Dumbledore's last whispered statement, but shrugging it off, 'I have news on the Death Eaters' plans. My good friend Rodolphus – I trust you remember him?' he said, interrupting himself, and at Dumbledore's solemn nod, he continued, '– Rodolphus is making plans to attack Muggle London while it is still in its state of shock at the mass attack of this thief character.'

'How very like our friend Rodolphus,' said Dumbledore quite coolly, pushing back his left sleeve and rubbing a long, red scar on his forearm as he did. 'Forgive me, Severus, for the coldness of my voice; I have not quite forgiven Rodolphus for trying to brand me with Lord Voldemort's Dark Mark. Fortunately, as we both know, I ended up with a scar and nothing else.'

'Indeed,' said Professor Snape, rubbing his own forearm, which itched from the previous burning of the Dark Mark branded upon it. He pulled back his sleeve and stared at it. 'Sometimes I wish that I had not been foolish enough to take this damned Mark, that I had only listened to her when she warned me about Mulciber and his evil ways ...' His voice broke, and he said no more.

'What else did you find out, Severus?' Dumbledore asked silently, not wishing to intrude on Snape's memory of his previous lost love.

'I have found out about the Dark Lord's plans for the boy,' said Snape bitterly, looking at Dumbledore again while shaking his sleeve back over his forearm. 'He wishes to meet this thief face to face. He is intrigued by the boy's level of magical talent, as well as the Weasley girl's. He said, more to himself than to I, that it reminds him of himself at that age.'

'Yes, Voldemort was highly skilled with magic as a teenager,' said Dumbledore quietly, knowing only too well what Voldemort had done and proved himself to be able to do at the age of eighteen, and even before. 'Very well, the lad is skilled with a wand, possibly even without one. What will Lord Voldemort do to face the thief man-to-man, Severus?'

'He wishes for his Death Eaters to invade the villa that the boy hides in, and he wants his Death Eaters to destroy any barriers that stand in the way,' Snape replied, rubbing his still itching arm; it was really irritating him. 'He is also telling us to take the girl hostage if it means getting at him, as the Dark Lord seems to think that the boy cares for her.'

'He may be a murderer, Severus, but that does not mean he cannot love. You proved that,' said Dumbledore softly, and his voice carried no accusation, only understanding.

Snape sighed. 'I only wish I had listened to her all those years ago ...'

'As you have already told me, not even three minutes ago,' smiled Dumbledore, sitting down again. 'You were young and foolish, Severus, but you have changed. You are not the sixteen-year-old boy who was neck-deep in interest of the Dark Arts. You are now a full grown man who has sacrificed so much for the greater good, for the good of the wizarding world. I'm sure Lily would have been very proud of you, Severus.'

'You think so?' Snape asked quietly, folding his arms again. His expression held misery and nothing else. 'I sometimes think that what I have done in the name of the Order of the Phoenix is a way of ... well, repaying her for her kindness, the kindness I threw away with a single insult. I could not do it any other way, not after her son vanished as a child ...' He broke off. He had no love for the boy, but he had vowed to Dumbledore that he would protect the boy. He had never, however, met Harry Potter, and so protecting him had been rendered impossible after the child had vanished twelve years ago.

'Severus, when Lord Voldemort goes with his Death Eaters to bring down the wards in Gyarta's Villa ... will you be present among the Death Eaters?' Dumbledore asked.

Snape seemed taken aback by this question.

'Yes,' he replied, 'I think I will be. The Dark Lord usually has either myself, Lucius, Rodolphus or Bellatrix lead missions of kidnap. He really wants this young male, and he will do anything in his power to meet the boy, and possibly even more to take him. His curiosity of the girl only adds to this, and a Weasley of all people ... the Dark Lord has never faced this much of a threat to his own power aside from you, and he will do anything to make allies out of these two teenagers.'

'That's good,' said Dumbledore, nodding his head, and Snape looked up, surprised. 'I need you to do something for me while you're on this mission. Tell the boy ... tell him that Albus Dumbledore wishes to meet him as well. I do not wish to resort to Lord Voldemort's method of confrontation, but if I must, I will. For now, merely telling him that I wish to see him should be enough. He has nothing to lose from this, anyway.'

'He has much to lose from this!' snapped Snape, alarmed at Dumbledore's words. 'The Dark Lord will hunt and kill this boy if he knows that the boy and the Weasley girl are in alliance with the Order of the Phoenix! He will see it as betrayal, Dumbledore! And aside from that, this boy has been on the run for years from everyone tied to the wizarding world! It's likely that he would never wish to meet someone tied to it!'

'We must try,' persisted Dumbledore.

'No, we must not!' Snape snarled, looking angry now. He brandished his Dark Mark-covered forearm at Dumbledore, who did not flinch, but stared at Snape as though contemplating something. 'Albus, the Dark Lord does not know nor care what your intentions with the boy are, but if he finds out that you have passed a message to him, he will know that it was I, who am in your constant accompanyment, who was the messenger!'

'I know, Severus,' said Dumbledore softly, 'but if we are not the ones to confront this boy, it will be the Ministry who does so. You know how Cornelius Fudge is, Severus. He will throw the boy to Azkaban, or even straight to the Dementors, without a second glance. He has no tolerance for murderers. However, if every crime was punished in such a way, the wizarding world would be considerably smaller. I wish to give this boy a second chance to live life. To do that, I must meet with him.'

Snape gazed at Dumbledore for a few moments, pondering these words. They made sense, after all, but they didn't make him any happier to be part of it. Finally, after a minute or so had passed, Snape nodded slowly in a way that suggested what he was agreeing to gave him immense inner pain.

'Very well, very well,' he hissed, 'I will see what I can do.'

Dumbledore beamed at him.

'Thank you, Severus.'

Snape gave him a curt nod and left the room, slamming the door behind him. He was quite clearly livid at the thought of his new assignment. Dumbledore sighed, staring at the door that Snape had stormed through, knowing full well that what he continued to ask of the greasy-haired man was quite unfair, but also knowing that he had no one else to turn to that could do this job. After a few minutes, he stood up and walked out of the classroom. He still had to comfort the Weasley brothers. It was his job as their leader.

* * *

In Gyarta's Villa, Harry Potter sat at the table, a second bottle of Firewhisky clutched in one hand, a book on potion-making in the other. He was looking up a cure for internal pain. Ever since he had found out that it was quite possible that Lord Voldemort had a piece of himself inside of Harry, the young man had taken to looking at every spare moment for something to combat this internal threat. He wanted to sleep well again. The lack of good sleep was starting to bother him in a way that he had never been bothered before.

Meanwhile, Ginny Weasley was sitting in the bedroom, staring out the window at the circle of houses around them. Her mind was wandering in every direction, taking in everything and yet nothing. Now that her family knew that she was still alive and well-known as an accomplice to a known murderer and thief, and possibly a murderer and thief herself, Ginny wondered if they actually cared enough to look for her. She had a suspicion that Bill and Charlie Weasley might, and that it was possible that Fred and George might, but she knew it was too much to expect her other brothers to, and that her parents would never do so. Not after what they had done to her ten years ago.

She shook her head of the memory, not wishing to dwell on it. She knew that it was one of the main reasons why she had delved so deep into the Dark Arts, but reminiscing on her horrible father and mother was not something that would help her. Not when she had so much to live up to, not after how far she had come in her time on the run with Harry. It was only ten or so years ago that he had saved her from those two Muggles, which seemed a long time ago, and yet seemed no time at all.

She was brought out of her reveries and thoughts by the sound of a loud alarm going off. She did not even need to look up to know what it was.

_They've found us._

She jumped from her bed, grabbing her cloak and her wand, and dashing out of the room. In the kitchen area, Harry had already clothed himself in his battle robes and attire with a wave of his wand. Ginny did likewise, and then began tying her hair back out of her face in a long ponytail.

'I don't know how they found us this time,' she snarled in a low voice, 'but I'm not holding back this time. If they want me back that badly, they're just gonna have to –'

'It's not your brothers, or that moron Moody,' said Harry quietly, staring out the window at the mass of black in the street around the house.

'Then who is it?' Ginny asked, staring at Harry.

'It looks like Voldemort's followers,' he replied, 'and lots of them. At least a dozen. Maybe more. We have to be ready to fight, Ginny. I can see the Lestranges out there, and that bloke Yaxley who nearly severed your arm from your shoulder. I can also see the Malfoy men. Why those weaklings are here is beyond me ...'

Ginny grasped her wand tightly, pointing it at the door.

'They're bringing down our wards,' she said in forced calmness, 'so let's bring the fight to them. I want to repay some of those bastards in full.'

'Let's go,' he said, putting on his mask. Ginny, though she no longer needed it, did likewise. They pointed their wands at the door simultaneously and shouted, '_Confringo_!'

The door blasted open with the force of cannon fire: it flew off its hinges and knocked three Death Eaters off their feet in the process. Allowing no emotion to betray them, they silently walked through the threshold of their home and into the street, where what looked to be twenty Death Eaters were waiting. One of them, who had long, greasy hair behind his own mask, stepped forward.

'So you're the infamous thief we've been hearing about,' he said, and his voice was cold, almost sneering. 'We've been expecting you, boy. And you've brought the Weasley girl, too. How charming.'

Several of his partners laughed. Harry said nothing. He was gauging who was who by the sounds of their laughter: he could recognize Yaxley, the Lestrange couple, the Malfoys, the Carrows, Mulciber, Travers, Avery and Dolohov. The others were unfamiliar, unknown to him.

'You're all fools,' said Harry in a loud, ringing voice. 'Without seeing your faces, I already know who half of you are, and most of that half are absolutely no threat to me.' He raised his wand. 'Let's see what you've got, Death Eater scum.'

'Hold on, boy,' rang the drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy, 'we are not here to fight you. We are here to offer a proposal. Your wards were hampering our progress.'

A sound from behind him told him that one of the Death Eaters had grabbed Ginny from behind, one arm around her mouth and neck, the other with a wand pointed at her. He had barely done more than whispered a spell before he was wandlessly, and wordlessly, blasted off of her. He flew through the window of the now wardless house and did not appear to move again.

'Now, now, boy, be reasonable,' sneered the greasy-haired man. 'We are only here for that reason, to reason with you. The Dark Lord has plans for you.'

'Tell him I'm not interested,' said Harry in an almost lazy tone of voice. Ginny jumped down to join him, and they stood side-by-side on the street, staring at the greasy-haired man, whose black eyes never left Harry's green eyeholes. The other man's eyes narrowed with disgust.

'You deny the Dark Lord, child?' the man said in a cold whisper.

'Nothing Voldemort could offer me is of any use to me,' replied Harry, ignoring the gasps of everyone present at the use of Voldemort's name. 'I am free as it is, powerful enough to live by my own regulations, and you Death Eaters and your leader can do nothing to cause me to let go of that.'

'Are you quite sure of that, boy?' said the greasy-haired man, who did not lower his gaze or even blink. Harry knew what he was trying to do, and he raised his Occlumency shields to full defense, blocking the man's Legilimency, which was more powerful than any Harry had ever felt.

'You're good with mind probing,' said Harry coldly, 'but I'm better when it comes to resistance.'

'Leave it be, Snape,' said Yaxley, staring at Harry as though he could not believe what he was seeing or hearing. 'He's not interested in our proposition as a second-in-command to the Dark Lord, so why not just kill him?'

'You know our orders!' snapped the man called Snape, looking at the brutal-faced man angrily. 'The Dark Lord wishes to meet him!'

'And meet him I shall,' said a high, cold voice from behind him.

Harry looked over Snape's shoulder, staring at the source of the voice. His insides turned over. The man was tall and extremely thin, his robes billowing from him almost like smoke. His face, however, was almost completely snake-like. He had deathly white skin, scarlet eyes and slits for a nose. His hands, which were like pale white spiders, were at his sides, one holding a bone-white wand.

'So,' said Lord Voldemort calmly, walking closer until he was standing in front of Harry, who was thunderstruck, 'we meet at last. I have been waiting for a while to find you, child.'

* * *

Author's Note: Yes, I know, a cliffhanger. If I didn't, this chapter would go on forever. It's not as interesting as the last two, but it's necessary. You'll see in the next chapter, where loose ends begin to be tied together.


	4. Chapter 4: Harry's Capture

Story Name: A Life of Rebellion

Author's Note: Letters, thoughts, Parseltongue, and some other forms of writing in this story will be written in Italics. On a rare occasion, **bold** writing will be used.

Summary: At the age of six, a young boy runs away from his negligent and cruel relatives. He becomes a thief, an assassin and a division in the war between Light and Dark. With a faithful companion at his side, a battle-scarred Harry Potter searches for the truth about his past.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the series as a whole, I own the fanfic-made and self-created modifications in this story in particular. I take no claim over the Harry Potter series. Any review saying otherwise will be automatically deleted.

Additional Author's Note: A lot of reviews have expressed concerns with the way the fic is going, what with the loose ends that I keep leaving you all to guess with, among other things. Well, my answer is, if I were to give you all the facts in the beginning of the story, what would be the point in reading it? I leave loose ends, cliffhangers, etc. because it adds interest. And with that, the story continues where we left off.

**Chapter 4: Harry's Capture**

For several moments, nobody spoke. You could hear a pin drop for miles. Harry Potter merely stood there, staring at the serpentine man in front of him, the man who had ruined his life so long ago in the first place, and Lord Voldemort stared back at him, his scarlet red eyes boring into Harry's emerald green orbs, trying and failing to see into the younger man's mind. Beside Harry stood Ginny, her hand curled around her wand in a death grip, staring past Voldemort at the greasy-haired Snape, who was staring at Harry as well, showing, not hatred, but something akin to curiosity. Around them stood nearly two dozen other Death Eaters, all watching the scene they surrounded, waiting for Voldemort's say-so to make a move. Lucius Malfoy was glaring daggers at Harry; Cyrus Yaxley was staring at Ginny. The Death Eater who had been blasted off of Ginny was standing at the window, using its sill for support, not even seeing the scene around him, looking more distracted than caring.

It was Harry who spoke first, his low voice breaking the silence.

'How did you find us here?' he asked quietly, his tone suggesting that everyone near him vacate or suffer.

Voldemort's lipless mouth curled into a smirk as he replied, 'It wasn't hard when I discovered that you have connections to Godric's Hollow, there's a villa near it, and the villa had powerful defenses around it. I'm not a fool, child.'

'How very clever of you, my Lord,' said Harry sardonically. Voldemort's smirk became more pronounced as he inclined his head as though taking a bow.

'My Lord,' Snape interrupted, raising his wand to the sky, 'we have company.'

Everybody looked upwards. What appeared to be a dozen people on broomsticks were flying straight towards them. Leading them was Alastor Moody, whose magical eye was glaring directly at Harry. For his part, Harry did not say anything or even react; he merely gazed up at the wizened Auror, who was pointing his wand directly at the spot that Harry, Ginny, Voldemort and Snape stood on.

'Stop them,' hissed Voldemort in a death whisper. 'I do not wish to be interrupted.' He nodded his head at the sky. At once, a broomstick appeared in front of every Death Eater present, and they mounted the broomsticks, tearing off into the sky. Only Snape and Bellatrix remained of Voldemort's followers.

'Now, to ensure that we are not interrupted,' Voldemort murmured, and he raised his bone-white wand to the sky and waved it in complicated twists and turns. Ten seconds later, an enormous shimmering shield was completely surrounding them, like a half-sphere trapping them inside of it.

'Well done, my Lord, well done indeed!' said Bellatrix eagerly.

Voldemort spared her a cold smile before turning back to Harry, who had returned to staring at him in curiosity and mingled hatred, though Voldemort saw neither.

'Now then, lad – and lass, I suppose,' he added, nodding at Ginny, who spared a cold look of her own, before he continued. 'I have a proposition of both of you. I want you to join the ranks of my Death Eater army, as second-in-commands. You will bow before no one but I, and your talents will be put to excellent use. What say you, children?'

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, and though their faces bore masks, each knew what the other was thinking. A moment later, Harry looked back at Voldemort.

'Aside from "putting our talents to good use", what's in it for us?' he asked. 'And what's in it for you, now that I think of it?'

Voldemort looked coldly surprised.

'I thought that was obvious, but clearly it wasn't,' he replied coldly, staring at both of them. 'You get to put your magical talents into play under plans constructed by both yourselves and myself, and you will be serving to bring the wizarding world into a pure-blood paradise that will change our ways for the better. You will be honored above all others –'

'Then we have a problem,' said Harry flatly, cutting off whatever else Voldemort was about to say.

Looking confused, Voldemort asked, 'What is the problem?'

'I'm not a pure-blood,' Harry stated firmly. 'I am a half-blooded wizard, born from a Muggle and a non-Muggle.' At this moment, he was proud to be so. He might be cold-blooded in some ways, but he was proud to be a Potter. He had learned about his father's deeds from his godfather, who was in hiding in Scotland.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed dangerously; he was clearly angry. The anger passed, however, and he gazed down at Harry in what he seemed to think was a fatherly manner.

'Your blood does not mean anything to the Dark Lord,' Snape said, his arms folded over his chest as he stared at Harry; for some reason, he had only curiosity in his gaze, as though he were inspecting Harry, gouging his reactions and statements. Harry did not like it one bit, but let Snape continue. 'You have proved yourself to be an incredible warrior, and the Dark Lord wishes you to join him for that reason alone.'

Above them, the Death Eaters were beating their opponents with ease: they had them outnumbered two to one, and Moody and his men were barely putting up a fight. One misfired spell, a Severing Charm, slammed into the shield, which did little more than shimmer from the strain.

Harry fingered his wand, wanting nothing more than to fire a curse at the arrogant serpent of a man in front of him, but he was waiting for the right moment. When that moment came, he would take the man by surprise and destroy the shield, but until then, he would hear Voldemort out. He could, however, see an enormous flaw in the logic of Voldemort and Snape.

'Before I give you a definite answer, let me ask you a question, Lord Voldemort,' said Harry quietly, staring into the scarlet orbs shining with anger. 'If I was a Muggle-born, and I was still as strong as I am now, would you be making this offer?'

This question clearly took Voldemort by surprise, and even Bellatrix, who had been keeping her wand trained on Ginny, looked momentarily stumped.

'O-Of course!' said Voldemort, as though the words caused him pain.

'Liar,' hissed Harry. 'If I was a Mudblood, you would never allow me near you. The fact that I actually have Mudblood within me, being a half-blood, is enough to make me question why you want me on your side.'

'Snape is a half-blood,' snapped Voldemort furiously, and Snape nodded at the words.

'And?'

Voldemort looked livid.

'Will you join me or not, boy?' he yelled, his emotions running wild. Harry was disappointed: this man, being the expert Occlumens he was, should have had a much easier time of controlling himself, especially in someone he was effectively offering a business proposal to ... not that Harry had ever considered joining him.

'Of course I won't,' said Harry coolly. 'I don't know whether you are aware of every person you have ever killed, but you have murdered loved ones of mine. I won't forgive you for that; hence, I won't join you.'

Snape stepped forward, eyes narrowed dangerously. Harry held up a hand to stop him at once.

'Don't even try it, Mr Snape,' he hissed, 'for it would not take me long to bring you down.'

The man stopped in his tracks, considering Harry, again not showing a sign of anger or even disappointment towards him. On the contrary, he was gazing at Harry as though he had not seen anything of the sort before. Harry idly wondered if Snape was one of Voldemort's weaker followers, but did not spare the man another glance: he was staring at Voldemort, who had gone passed lividity and was now red with rage.

'Fine, then!' snarled the snake-faced man, 'have it your way! On your own head be it! If you will not join me, you are my enemy! And you should know, I NEVER ALLOW MY ENEMIES TO LEAVE WITHOUT SUFFERING!'

His wand had raised and the Cruciatus curse had flown from the tip of it faster than blinking, and yet Harry was able to deflect it almost effortlessly; the curse was knocked back, slamming into the shield, which shimmered and nearly faded, but still remained. Voldemort raised his wand again, but this time Harry was faster: he pointed his own wand at Voldemort's chest and shouted, '_Avada Kedavra_!'

The killing curse, which was meant to be unblockable and cause instantaneous death, slammed into Voldemort's chest and threw him into the barrier, which shattered with the combined force of the spell and the man. Before he had flown backwards more than a few feet outside of the deactivated barrier's boundaries, however, Voldemort stopped in midair as though winged. He spun around and landed, almost weightlessly, on the ground, his red eyes shining with rage.

'You cannot kill me, boy!' Voldemort spat, raising his wand again. 'I cannot die! _Crucio_!'

Harry dodged the spell this time, letting it fly into a nearby house and blow a hole in its wall; he whipped his wand at Voldemort, the Bludgeoning Hex flying from it with barely a thought, and Voldemort deflected it, hitting someone on a broomstick, whether Auror or Death Eater it was impossible to tell; and now Voldemort was airborn again, his robes whipping around him as though caught in a windstorm, and his wand raised over his head, its tip glowing green –

Ginny was a few yards away, locked in a duel with Bellatrix Lestrange, while Snape had vanished from sight altogether; Bellatrix was hurling killing curse after killing curse at Ginny, who was dodging them and firing an assortment of offensive spells at the older woman, who dodged and blocked them in turn. They looked as though they were locked in a murderous dance.

Harry deflected yet another spell with a wordless shield, but Voldemort was now flying at him, and the hand that did not hold a wand closed around Harry's throat: choking and gasping, Harry was pulled into the air by the neck, struggling to breathe. Voldemort smirked, raising his wand and whipping it around over his head to perform a deadly curse –

And then something snapped. Harry's inner magic began to flow within him, channeling through his wand, which he whipped upwards and brought on level with Voldemort's face: a great beam of white light shot from it, engulfing Voldemort's head and upper torso.

Voldemort's howl of pain went unheard and yet drew every eye, even those in battle on broomstick. Ginny looked over at them, having cast a spell that encased Bellatrix's legs in black rope; Kingsley Shacklebolt had just knocked aside one of his opponents and had dashed towards them, wand raised, but met another shield that propelled him backwards and out of sight. Voldemort had released Harry, who fell back to the ground and landed on his feet with his robes seemingly dancing around in the air, and fell through the air, hitting the ground on his back.

The force of the beam of light had scarred Voldemort's face in ways that made his previous one look almost normal. A long scar ran from above Voldemort's left eye to down his cheek, and another ran over his chin area and to his ear. Both were bleeding madly, and Harry could tell that one of Voldemort's eyes was completely useless now. He slowly got to his feet, clutching one eye, which was bleeding more than any of his other injuries.

'Not bad, kid,' he hissed madly, 'but I'm not finished.' He whipped his wand at Harry with his free hand and shouted, '_Avada Kedavra_!'

'It won't work, Voldemort!' shouted Harry, dodging the spell. Voldemort fired another, which looked almost like a bone-breaking curse, but a wandless barrier rose from the ground in front of Harry and absorbed the curse, disappearing afterwards. Harry walked towards Voldemort, who had closed his scars and had stopped bleeding. He looked far less human than he had before.

For a moment, the two stared at each other, and then they simultaneously raised their wands.

'_Avada Kedavra_!'

Two green jets of light flew from opposite directions, slamming into one another in midair. The two spells combined did what one spell could never do: it connected, fusing into one long jet of light, which glowed a strange gold color before turning black. The connection did not break, and for a moment Harry had a horrible idea that he knew exactly what was happening –

'NO!'

He jerked his wand upwards with all his might, breaking the connection into shards, and the black beam of light vanished; he could once again see Voldemort's face, which was both furious and terrified. Whatever had happened, Voldemort had been terrified by it, but not nearly as terrified as Harry.

He took Ginny's hand and ran from the spot, knowing that anti-Apparition fields were up by now to stop them from Disapparating from the scene: he raised his wand and shot a killing curse at a man on a broom; the man fell lifelessly to the ground and Harry caught the broom in his hand, jumping onto it and pulling Ginny on behind him. There was nothing but escape in his mind, and he would kill whoever stood in his way.

Ginny screamed his name, and Harry looked over his shoulder to see no less than ten Death Eaters flying after him. Voldemort was in the lead, soaring along the wind as though a Hippogriff; he directed his wand at Ginny, shouting the incantation for the Summoning Charm.

_NO!_ Harry thought furiously.

He directed his wand over his shoulder and cast a wordless Bludgeoner, which Voldemort dodged, but the damage was done: Voldemort's charm failed, and Ginny clung all the tighter to Harry's waist. Harry began to channel his magic, letting it flow through his body and into the broom he was sitting on. It began to move faster.

He looked back. The Death Eaters on brooms were beginning to be less and less visible, but Voldemort was still keeping up with ease, and Harry did not need to look twice to know that Voldemort was channeling his magic the same way he was.

Harry shot forward, nearly bent fully forward on the broomstick, and tore through the air, Voldemort zooming after him. He dodged two more killing curses before he shot downward into a vertical dive, Ginny clinging to him for dear life. Voldemort followed, practically upside-down in the air as he chased them. More killing curses hurled towards Harry, who was able to dodge them effortlessly, but it was costing him speed; Voldemort was gaining on them.

A large tower, nearly a hundred feet tall, rose out of the air, and Harry recognized it by the cross on top of it as a church tower. He dove past it, but grabbed the cross, wrapping an arm around Ginny and pulling her with him. The broomstick continued to zoom away, and Voldemort, who had not seen Harry's escape from his broom, continued to chase it. Harry, meanwhile, swung from the cross and landed on the rooftop, holding onto Ginny with his other arm.

'Hold on tight,' he warned.

He jumped from the roof, landing on a balcony, which he jumped from as well, landing on the steps below in front of a large oak door leading into the church. He had used his wandless magic to slow his fall, but his feet burned in pain nevertheless. He could distinctly see Voldemort flying through the air, but he was not getting smaller; he was coming at them.

'Bastard doesn't give up at all,' snapped Harry under his breath, pulling out his wand. He directed it at the sky and shouted, '_Protego domesticus_!'

An enormous beam of silver light flew from his wand, parted into a fountain of silver that fell like a dome around the entire church, and Voldemort, who had been just about to reach the church, slammed into the dome face first and fell out of the sky. He Disapparated before he touched the ground, leaving no sign that he had ever been there, and Harry saw the broomstick disappear altogether in the sky.

'What an idiot,' hissed Harry, staring at the spot that Voldemort had been hovering in.

Ginny broke apart from Harry, sitting down on the steps. She looked angry, but not at Harry.

'I'm useless!' she exclaimed after a minute or so.

This took Harry by surprise. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean I couldn't fight off that boot-licking bitch of Voldemort's, I was scared like a child when I was holding onto you during the aerial chase, and here I am right now, watching you exert twice as much magic for both of us!' She stood up, holding her head in her hands, looking a little deranged. 'This should not be happening to me! That Lestrange woman should have been an easy kill, but she equaled me!'

'Bellatrix Lestrange is a tough foe,' Harry pointed out. 'She's on a level that far exceeds the other Death Eaters. Her husband, Rodolphus, is similar in strength. The first time I faced Rodolphus, I was nearly killed by him.'

He stopped, thinking about something.

'I wish I knew what the deal with that Snape man was,' he said slowly. 'The man kept looking at me with an unusual kind of curiosity. It was like he was examining me, checking every nook and crook in me. His Legilimency was powerful, too. I'd say almost as powerful as Voldemort's, if not more powerful. I couldn't see into his head, either, he's a terrific Occlumens.'

'Yeah, well,' said Ginny irritably, 'at least no one can get to us now, with this shield up.'

'You might be wrong about that,' said a new voice, coming from the doorway to the Muggle church.

Both Harry and Ginny spun around, wands raised and directed at the oak doors. Harry nearly dropped his wand in shock, but gripped it in a vicegrip upon maintaining hold of it. Standing in front of them, his long silver hair and beard floating a bit in the breeze blowing through the shield, was Professor Albus Dumbledore, the leader of the Order he had heard about.

'YOU!' Harry snarled, his hatred of the man evident.

'Me,' Dumbledore said calmly, not looking bothered in the least at the amount of hatred Harry was sending him. 'It's nice to finally meet you, young man, though the circumstances are, I admit, rather downcast in this case ... nevertheless, I am glad that we are finally meeting face-to-face.'

'How did you get through my barrier?' hissed Harry, not listening to Dumbledore's rambling.

'I didn't, my boy,' said Dumbledore quietly. 'I was already here when you raised the barrier. I must give you credit, though; I do not think I could get through this particular one. It is very strong.'

'Save your pleasantries, old man!' snapped Harry furiously, his face, covered by the mask, red with anger. 'I know why you're here, and you can forget it! I will never work alongside a man like you! You're no different from that serpentine man who just chased me across England!'

'How did you know we were here, anyway?' Ginny asked coldly, her own dislike of the man shining through her.

Dumbledore turned his head to look at her for the first time.

'Is that you, Miss Weasley?' he asked pleasantly, looking into her brown eyes under the eyeholes. 'I must say, you have grown into a powerful young woman in your absence. Though I cannot understand how, given that you could not have done much magical study while on the run from the world you belong to ...'

He turned away from Ginny's angry form, looking at Harry's livid form instead.

'As for your words, Mr ... dear me, I wish I had a name to go by in this case ...'

'Just call me Evans,' snapped Harry impatiently.

'All right, then, Mr Evans,' said Dumbledore, with an infuriating look in his eye, 'back to my point: your words, which are not completely unfounded, have some fault in them. I am not here to force you to do anything. I am here, however, for two reasons.'

Harry sighed irritably.

'First reason?' he asked.

'I would like to know if you are interested in helping the Order of –'

'No,' interrupted Harry, 'I'm not interested, and that's my final word. Second reason?'

Dumbledore sighed.

'I have a suspicion of your real identity,' the elderly wizard said, deciding not to beat around the bush anymore, 'so I will be blunt and ask you.'

Whatever Harry had been expecting, this was not it. _Shit, shit, SHIT!_

'Don't bother, Dumbledore,' he said in resignation. 'Your "suspicions" are usually right on the mark, to my own dismay, so I will not bother to insult your intelligence, whatever I might think of you.' His fingers were trembling, but he knew that this was only because he was nervous as to the outcome of what was about to happen. Sighing, he placed a hand on the mask covering his face and pulled it off.

For a moment, nothing was heard. The silence seemed to ring through the dome they stood in. Harry stared at Dumbledore, his eyes blazing with hatred, but keeping his emotions in check otherwise. Ginny was looking fixedly from Harry to Dumbledore, waiting for one of them to say something; the matter was effectively between them now, and Ginny knew better than to intrude. Dumbledore, for his part, did not react. He stared at Harry with self-loathing in his eyes, and Harry wondered if he regretted something about the matter. This did not diminish his hatred for the old Headmaster of Hogwarts.

At long last, Dumbledore spoke.

'So ... you did not die after all,' he said quietly, his eyes slightly misted over. 'You survived all those years on the run from the age of six ... you survived even after running away from your aunt and uncle ... you lived on, Harry Potter.'

Harry nodded, his eyes still narrowed in intense dislike.

'And – forgive me for the amount of questions – am I right in thinking that you were the one who killed Mr and Mrs Dursley, and their son, in their own home almost four years ago?'

He nodded again, bottling the memory away with his Occlumency shields.

'Oh, Harry ...' Dumbledore dropped to his knees, visibly shaking. 'I only wish we had found you sooner ...'

Harry did not reply, nor did he feel any sort of pity for the broken man before him. On the contrary, he was severely angry at the man for showing weakness in front of him when he ought not to be. The man had no business being weak in front of someone who could never forgive him and would sooner see him dead at his feet.

'Are you done?' Harry asked, about five minutes later. 'Your weeping is irritating.'

Dumbledore looked up, getting to his feet again. He looked much older than he was, which was saying a lot.

'Harry, I know what you must be thinking,' said Dumbledore in a low whisper, staring at the eighteen year old boy in front of him. 'I know how much you must despise me, for not being able to find you after you ran from your relatives' home –'

'To be honest, Dumbledore,' snapped Harry, 'that has very little to do with why I despise you.'

Dumbledore's eyes snapped to Harry's direction, and he looked confused now, not to mention worried. Harry leaned against the pillar on the top of the steps, massauging his temple. Ginny was still sitting on the railing next to him, her gaze never leaving Dumbledore's profile.

'I'm glad you didn't find me,' Harry continued angrily, 'because I knew that if you never found me, you couldn't repeat your previous action and throw me back to the Dursleys.'

'Harry, what –?'

'DONT! CALL! ME! HARRY!' he all but screamed, pointing his own wand in Dumbledore's face. 'You do NOT deserve the right to address me by first name, Dumbledore! I am NOT your prodigee, your friend, or "your boy". We have nothing, Dumbledore! You betrayed my godfather, you sent me to live with monsters, and I will NEVER forgive you!'

A solitary tear trickled down Dumbledore's cheek, but it burned away when it came past Harry's wand tip, which was glowing green. Dumbledore, for his part, did not back away, or cower. He met the intense gaze that Harry was giving him with his own, half-hearted gaze.

'If you hate me now, H-Mr Potter, you will loathe me for what else I know about your past that you do not know,' Dumbledore said quietly.

'If you're talking about the prophecy,' Harry said coldly, 'I know all about it. _Neither can live while the other survives_ ... I believe that was what it said, was it not, Dumbledore?'

He considered the aged man before him for a second, wondering if he should say more. It was bad enough that he had revealed his identity to Dumbledore. He had to make sure that Dumbledore did not tell anyone else, or everything Harry had worked toward would be for nothing. Slowly, he lowered his wand.

'Listen up, old man,' said Harry quietly, but loud enough so that Dumbledore would hear him loud and clear. 'I don't want to be discovered and apprehended at every corner. You owe me, and as payment, I want your word that you will never tell anybody about my true identity. In fact, I want an Unbreakable Vow –'

'You know I cannot do that, Mr Potter,' said Dumbledore regretfully, closing his eyes. 'I have to tell the Order about your identity. It is for your own good. There is a twenty-five thousand Galleon price on your head, and a similar one on Miss Weasley's. The Ministry is allowing the Aurors to use any spell outside of the Killing curse upon you. Alastor Moody wishes to see you given to the Dementors, as I am sure you have seen from your meeting with him none too long ago. Mr Potter, I am sorry, I want to give you a second chance, but you have killed and maimed too many. I cannot let you run away again. You are in too much danger.'

'We've always been in danger!' snapped Ginny, who had not looked away from Dumbledore yet. She jumped down from her banister, coming to stand beside Harry, who had his wand at his side. 'We've never been able to live our lives to the fullest! We've been on the run together – just me and him – for a decade now! My own father didn't give a damn, so why should you or anyone else?' She was all but spraying saliva as she yelled.

Dumbledore now looked confused.

'Miss Weasley, what did you mean about your father?' he asked.

'Oh, this is rich!' Ginny screeched, throwing her red hair over her shoulder as she stared at him in disgust. 'I bet you don't want to think about it, being all caught up in acting ashamed of yourself for Harry, so you're pretending to not know what I meant! Well, here's the cold, hard truth, old man: my father didn't want me anymore, so I ran away with Harry, after, by the way, he saved my life!'

'Mademoiselle Weasley, I think you might be misled,' said the Headmaster of Hogwarts in a low, confusion-ridden tone, 'as your father had been looking for you for years after you vanished, and to this day is in sorrow at never finding you. When your name turned up as the female accomplice for who I now know to be Harry, he nearly had a stroke with shock.'

'No! STOP! Stop lying through your teeth to me!' shrieked Ginny, pointing her own wand into Dumbledore's face, the green glow emitting from it as fierce as Harry's had been. To her surprise, and to Dumbledore's, Harry gently took hold of her wrist, lowering it to her side, and stared at Dumbledore himself.

'Dumbledore, I'm going to ask you again. How did you know we were here?' Harry asked, impatience and anger etched in his face and oozing through his voice.

'I followed you here,' he replied simply, still in despair. 'I watched Lord Voldemort chase you through England, and I followed. When you landed on the church, Voldemort dashing by you for reasons I do not know of, I hid inside the doors. I waited for you to come down. You standing there for a few minutes without moving away, and putting up a shield that makes it so that nobody enters or leaves, was an added bonus.'

'I see,' said Harry coldly, still staring directly into Dumbledore's eyes. 'And how did you know the area we were in?'

'I have a spy in Lord Voldemort's forces.'

'Who is the spy?' Harry asked.

'Severus Snape,' was Dumbledore's reply.

'The greasy-haired man who kept staring at me in confusion, in awe and in some sort of tracking manner?'

'Yes.'

'I see,' Harry repeated. He leaned against the pillar again, not trusting himself to hesitate once in case the old man tried anything; the shield would only hold for as long as Harry was conscious and able to keep it up. Yet for someone who was effectively at their mercy, Dumbledore was not showing any signs of worry. Was it that he knew that Harry was hesitating to cast the curse he so longed to utter upon the old man? Or was it something else? Did Dumbledore truly believe that Harry did not have what it took to kill, or even hurt, him?

Finally deciding on something, he looked up at Dumbledore, who had not looked away, but had continued to consider him, one hand behind his back.

'Look, Dumbledore, I don't like you and I know you'd have no use for me if it wasn't for my original defeat of Voldemort, so let's get one thing straight right now: I am not your friend. I am not willing to help you or your cause, with the exception of killing off Death Eaters, which I have no trouble doing. I'm still looking for Wormtail, because as far as I'm concerned, Wormtail is mine and mine alone to kill after what he's done to my life.'

'Harry ...'

'No, Dumbledore! I will kill him, and one day, I will kill Voldemort, not because I'm destined to, but because I plan on getting revenge for what he did to my parents! I'll bring down every Death Eater who gets in my way as well, even that Severus Snape man, but I will, absolutely, kill Voldemort! But if you think I'm going to do it on your schedule, and on your plans, and protect the world who never cared about me, you have another thing coming! The wizarding world means nothing to me, and Muggles mean even less!'

'Your mother was Muggle-born,' said Dumbledore softly.

'Be that as it may, she was still a great witch, Mudblood or not! She escaped Voldemort's clutches three times!'

Dumbledore said nothing.

'One more thing before I leave, old man,' said Harry coolly, looking directly into Dumbledore's blue orbs now. 'If you tell your Order, or whatever you call them, about me, I'll kill them one by one. It's bad enough that I told you my secret; I don't need the world knowing about it. I'd much rather they think in their peace that I died long ago, or whatever they believe.'

'You wouldn't!' Dumbledore shouted. 'Harry, that's mass murder!'

'It's in your hands, Dumbledore,' said Harry with a wicked grin. 'I'm not afraid to do it. If you tell so much as one person, I'll destroy your Order. I'm not in this war, after all; I can kill who I please.'

Dumbledore looked horrified. He had not thought Harry as insane, or a psychopath, but now he was wondering if this was the case.

'We're done here, old man,' sneered Harry. 'Come on, Ginny. We're leaving.'

He put his mask back on, then pointed his wand skyward, murmured, '_Finite incantatem_,' and the dome shimmered and vanished into nothing. Taking Ginny's hand, he pulled her down the steps with him and began to walk through the row that led to the street, intent on Disapparating at the end. He was interrupted, however, by a loud yell – or spell casting:

'_Petrificus totalus_!'

The Body-Bind Curse soared through the air behind them, hitting Ginny in the back, who fell backwards, rigid as a board, having let go of Harry's hand in surprise. She stared upwards, unable to move, her arms and legs snapped to her sides and her jaws clamped shut. She stared upwards, caught off-guard and eyes filled with surprise, at the sky, her eyes darting left and right. Harry had just pulled out his wand to take off the spell with another jet of light shot towards them, and his wand was thrown from his hand.

'What the –?'

He looked over, clutching his wrist: Albus Dumbledore was still standing at the top of the steps, looking as surprised as Harry did. Harry looked over to the side, and to his fury he saw Alastor Moody standing with his wand outstretched, his spinning eye taking in everything before finally resting on Harry.

'You're coming with us, boy,' he hissed. 'You're unarmed. Don't make this harder than it already is.' He limped closer to Harry, his wand trained on Harry's face.

Harry raised his eyebrows.

'You and what army?'

Moody snapped his fingers. All around them, Disillusionment Charms lifted, and figures on broomsticks, all holding wands trained on Harry and the fallen Ginny, appeared as though from nowhere. Two of them flew down and landed, climbed off and walked closer, their wands still trained on Harry.

'Move away, boy,' hissed Kingsley Shacklebolt. 'You're in enough trouble as it is. Don't make this harder.'

'That's what Moody said,' snickered Harry. He raised his wand, and the man walking with Shacklebolt went flying backwards and out of sight. He raised his other hand, blasting Shacklebolt away as well, who landed on the church steps. He had just wandlessly Summoned his wand to train it on Moody when he saw Ginny, still paralyzed by the curse, held at wand point by Moody, with one arm around her throat.

'Game over, boy,' Moody trilled, pushing the tip of his wand into Ginny's cheek. 'Give yourself up or she's coming with us.'

Harry was torn. If he went along with them, he would be signing away his identity, and everything he had done in the last decade would be all for nothing. However, if he didn't, Ginny would be taken captive by this Order that Dumbledore mentioned, and Harry knew that it would take a long time to rescue her, if she had not been sent to Azkaban before then. Groaning angrily, he began to lower his wand to the ground, but then a thought struck him: maybe he could feint his way out of this ...

'Do it, boy!' snapped Moody, but next second, Harry had vanished. He was now right behind Mad-Eye, and he grabbed his arm, twisting it back. Moody roared in pain but Harry wordlessly silenced him, dragging Moody off of Ginny by his twisted arm. He threw Moody aside and blasted him back, and then turned to Ginny, but Ginny was gone.

'WHAT?' Harry all but screamed. 'WHAT DO YOU PEOPLE WANT WITH US? WE ONLY WANT TO LIVE OUR LIVES TOGETHER! LEAVE US THE HELL ALONE ALREADY!' He pointed his wand at one of the airborne people, to whom another one was flying toward with Ginny in tow. Keeping his wand trained directly on the man, he bellowed, '_CRUCIO_!'

The man fell out of the air, writhing in pain and agony, and landed with a dull thud on his back, still screaming as Harry's Cruciatus curse held. Harry wandlessly Summoned the fallen broom into his hand and dashed toward the escaping man with his cursed girlfriend. Next moment, Harry had dashed sideways right in front of him, and with complete shock that he did not allow to show in his face he saw Bill Weasley, who looked downright pissed off.

'She's my sister, you murderer,' he snarled, pointing his wand at Harry's face. 'Get out of my way. You aren't corrupting her any further.'

Harry grabbed his wrist with a lightning-swift motion, twisting it out of his face. Two Stunners flew from Bill Weasley's wand, but they missed Harry's head by several inches. He was roaring at Harry now, clearly livid beyond belief, which Harry could not figure out for the life of him.

'Give me Ginny back, Weasley,' Harry hissed, twisting the man's arm back further, 'or I'm ripping your forearm from its flesh and bone. Give her to me now.'

Five more Order members had flown directly at Harry, but he wandlessly fired off a Blast-radius Curse that sent them all flying back, smoke trailing behind them as they fell. Bill Weasley was still resolutely holding his sister in his other arm, though he was grunting in pain as his arm twisted back even further.

'Let go of me, kid!' snarled Bill, struggling to pull his arm out of Harry's powerful grip.

Harry was about to answer when he felt a spell hit him from behind, momentarily distracting his progress. He knew before he began to feel its effects that it was a Stunning Spell. He slowly fell to the ground, rendered unconscious even before he landed on the ground below. Just before he had fallen fully unconscious, he felt an uncomfortable feeling that he was being sucked through a tight tube.

* * *

Upon waking up, Harry hissed in pain. The fall had hurt his head badly, and he had no idea where in the hell he was. The room was dark, and he could not see through it. He knew that it was not his home in Gyarta's Villa, however, and he was peeved at this. He made to sit up, and found that he couldn't.

He looked down. He was strapped to some kind of operating table, red straps running over his shoulders, wrists and waist, knees, and ankles. He could only move his head. He cursed under his breath – that is, he tried to, only to realize that he was under a Silencing Charm as well.

Willing his magic to flow through him, Harry broke the Silencing Charm with ease, but the straps would not fail. He tried his wandless _Finite incantatem_ again. Nothing happened. 'Shit,' he whispered to himself. 'They've got me magically tied down.'

The table was set on a forty-five degree angle, and so he could see everything in the room, which had brightened a bit. Ginny was on a table a few feet away, strapped down in a similar fashion. She was also awake, but she seemed unable to break the Silencing Charm that adorned her tonsils. She looked over at Harry and struggled to remove the straps, but they would not break. Both of their wands were taken from them, and with a sinking feeling Harry saw that both of them were on another table, strapped down to it, and Harry was willing to bet all of the magic in his body that they were spelled to not break either.

_Alastor Moody is going to suffer for this!_

Even as he thought this, something clicked in Harry's mind.

_Wait ... Dumbledore is behind this! He had one of his hands behind his back as he spoke, and he was being unusually calm ... it fits! The old man WAS lying through his teeth! I knew it! But now what do I do? I'm trapped, tied to this damn table, and Ginny is too! Neither of us can magic our way out of this._

As he came to this realization and plotted Dumbledore's murder in his mind, the door opened, and the man Harry had been told was called Severus Snape walked in.

Seeing that they were awake, Snape walked over to the table, his fists clenched. He still didn't look angry or even concerned. He was still looking at Harry in that tracking manner that he had been staring at him in when he had been at Voldemort's side. _What is this man's deal?_

Snape came to stand directly in front of Harry's table, and Harry stared at him, meeting him in the eyes. His Occlumency powers had thankfully not been altered, so he was able to keep them in full strength. Snape did not seem to like this fact.

'I'll find out who you are, kid,' he whispered in the darkness, 'even if I have to remove that thing myself!'

He raised one hand and placed it on the side of Harry's mask, pulling it upwards. Immediately he felt a painful shock surge through his arm, and he drew it back in shock, staring at Harry, who was smirking. He had cast protections on his mask to see to it that nobody could just rip it off. He wasn't gifted as a wizard for nothing.

'I'll tear that mask off one way or another, boy!' yelled Snape.

He put his hand back on the mask and pulled at it again. It was easy to see that he was feeling the same surge of magic as before, but he was unrelenting, and slowly but definitely surely, the mask was starting to come off. Thirty seconds later, the spells on the mask finally failed, and the mask ripped from Harry's face, drawing a little blood but otherwise hanging from Snape's hand.

For a long, painful minute, Snape stared at Harry, his expression horrified as he took in Harry's emerald green eyes, boney face and messy black hair that hung to his shoulders. Then he spoke, and it was not the cold, uncaring voice that Harry was used to hearing from the man he had known for a full day, but a tone full of evident shock.

'P-Potter?' he whispered.

Harry stared, wondering what the reaction was about.

'Yes,' he said in resignation, knowing his game was up, 'I'm Harry Potter.'

Snape stepped back a few inches, looking horror-struck, and Harry could not help but wonder why. He had heard about his namesake's popularity, but he had never thought that a duo Death Eater and Order member would be so struck to see him.

'You – You look very like your father,' Snape finally spluttered, his voice a low hiss.

'You knew my father?' Harry asked sharply, his interest perked at this.

'Only too well,' Snape hissed angrily, staring into Harry's green eyes. For some reason, Harry did not feel the usual twinge of Legilimency against his own barriers this time, and he wondered what Snape was doing. It was as though his eyes were the only thing Snape could tolerate seeing. 'Your father and I had a rough past in school. To put it bluntly, I hated him, and he hated me. I would think of you the same way as him – arrogant, inferior, self-satisfied, etcetera – if I did not know what you are capable of.'

'Nice to know,' Harry trilled sarcastically, once again struggling to throw off the bonds that resolutely held him to his table. Ginny watched the exchange with an odd look in her eyes.

'I wish I could help you, Mr Potter,' said Snape in a low voice, 'but I cannot. I am firmly with Dumbledore in this war, spying on the Dark Lord for him and reporting everything to him. I am but the double agent of this way, spying for both sides, but only truly on one of them.'

Harry stared at Snape, wishing he understood the older man's motives but having no real clue as to what they were. Snape was still resolutely staring into Harry's eyes, never taking them off, and Harry remembered something that had been said long ago, that his eyes were the same as his mother's –

'Did you know my mother?' Harry asked, his tone neutral, though he did crave to know.

Snape looked shocked.

'Yes, I did,' he whispered. 'How did you know?'

'You're looking directly into my eyes, and by extension, my mother's,' said Harry with the slightest of smirks. He had no hatred for Snape, who appeared to be more and more in awe of him the more he spoke. Whatever had happened between his father and Snape was just between them, and Harry was not interested in seeing it affect him. Snape, for his part, looked a bit impressed and a bit worried.

'Yes, I knew Lily,' he said, and for the briefest of moments, his face seemed to light up at the mention of Harry's mother, Lily Potter. 'We were friends before we went to Hogwarts. An unfortunate rift came between us during our time there, however, and our friendship did not last past the first five years there.' His brightened features became downcast at these words, as though he truly regretted what had happened, and Harry believed him. He wondered what had happened to damage the friendship between Snape and Lily. He did not care, personally, but he valued any and every bit of information that was known about his parents, who had died so young, for so much.

The door opened again and Alastor Moody walked in, limping on one leg, to Harry's glee. He walked over and grabbed Harry by the face, turning it roughly to face him.

'Hmph! So we get to know who you are at last! About t–' He broke off, seeing Harry's face for the first time. Catching himself quickly, he continued. 'You're that Potter kid that vanished a long time ago! To think, a cold-blooded murderer bearing that name, of all names, as he kills! Your parents would be ashamed, Potter!'

Harry thrashed against his bonds, wanting nothing more than to rip Moody in two, tear him limb from limb and even destroy his remains. Therefore, it came to his immense surprise that Snape stopped Moody in his tracks.

'That's enough,' he said in the same cold voice that Harry had first heard him speak in. 'You are not helping matters, Moody. You are only making them worse.'

'To hell with you, Snape, I'll interrogate the stupid kid if I want to! You aren't in charge!'

'Try a little more maturity, Alastor,' said Snape angrily, stepping between Harry and Moody, who looked livid, 'and back off. I will interrogate Potter. You will do your job as guard of this room. The alternative is being hexed out of here. You have fifteen seconds to decide.'

Moody was just about to reply when he jumped up, yelping in pain: something had hit him in the butt, and had apparently caused him immense pain. He limped out of the room, snarling angrily at nothing, and Snape muttered, '_Colloportus_,' and the door slammed shut behind him.

'Thanks for that,' Snape muttered. 'I never did like Moody, the arrogant fool ...'

'I didn't hex him,' said Harry, confused now. As one, he and Snape turned to look at Ginny, who had one finger pointed at the spot that Moody had been standing in. She was grinning madly as she stared, blushing, at Harry and Snape.

'Sorry, Severus,' she said, the cheesy grin still on her face, 'couldn't resist.'

'Nicely done, Weasley,' said Snape with a smirk. 'Was that a Stinging Hex?'

'Burning Jinx,' smiled Ginny, letting her finger, and the rest of her hand, fall to her side. Her wrists were also bound down to the table, like Harry's, giving little room for movement. 'Moody's a pain in the arse, so why not show him an actual pain in the arse?' she added with a laugh.

Snape gave a hollow chuckle, then turned to face Harry again.

'You might be a Potter, kid, but you have my respect,' he said quietly. His voice darkened, and he added, 'The rest of the Order cannot know. I am loyal to Dumbledore only for your mother's sake, and by extension, your sake as well. Dumbledore will not know of my loyalty to you, Potter. I am a highly accomplished Occlumens myself, and I can shield my mind from both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord. I know that you can as well, even if it does surprise me greatly.'

'Twelve years on your own – well, almost on your own,' he added, nodding at Ginny, who smiled, 'means you have to provide for yourself from a young age. I stole wizarding books and read from them, looking up different spells and curses, and learning their incantations and wand movements. I even learned how to do a lot of them wandlessly and non-verbally. When I was twelve, I learned Occlumency, and mastered it a year later. Ginny did too, but she was only eleven.'

'You mastered Occlumency at adolescence?' Snape all but gasped, clasping a pale hand over his mouth as he realized he might have drawn attention.

'Yes. It was necessary. If we were ever taken captive – it was possible, after all the theft and even a few attacks we performed on people who apprehended us – we could not let them into our minds. Occlumency is a different breach of magic, as you know, so magical binding cannot lower our shields. Dumbledore himself cannot enter my mind, and if he does, I will kill him, friend of yours or not, Snape.'

Snape merely nodded, knowing the violent temper of the boy strapped down in front of him already. He had stood up to Voldemort just yesterday, after all. His reverie broke at the sound of footsteps heading towards them.

'Snape, you should probably leave us now,' said Harry quickly, glancing at the doorway. 'That's probably another Auror, and they can't know that you're on good terms with us.'

'Indeed,' muttered Snape, whipping his head at the door. He looked at Harry again, briefly, and nodded his head. 'Until we meet again, Potter and Weasley.'

He turned on his heel and walked towards the door, opening it with a non-verbal Unlocking Charm. As he went through the threshold of the doorway, he passed by none other than Albus Dumbledore, who smiled at the greasy-haired man as he passed, which Snape only replied to with a reluctant smile of his own. Albus Dumbledore closed the door behind him gently, locking it with a flick of his wand behind him.

'Now, then, how are you this morning, Mr Potter?' Dumbledore asked in a friendly enough tone, though Harry could hear mild disgust in his voice. Had the meeting at the Muggle church really been fake? Harry figured that it had been, considering the old Headmaster had not asked any questions about Harry's life on the run, nor Harry's reasons for his supposed madness ... not to mention Harry had threatened both Dumbledore and the entire Order just before being captured.

'How kind of you to ask,' Harry said sarcastically, staring at Dumbledore intensely through blazing green eyes. 'I cannot complain, I suppose. How are you, _Headmaster_?'

Dumbledore flinched a little at his tone, though he did not comment on it.

'I'm very well, thank you,' he said with a small bow; Harry longed to wrap his fingers around the throat of the old, mocking fool. 'I am here to speak to you, actually, Harry – do you mind if I call you Harry, seeing as we will be having many discussions over the next while?' Harry narrowed his eyes, but did not reply, and Dumbledore took it to mean that Harry reluctantly agreed. 'Good. Now, then, Harry, I would like to discuss many things with you, but the main issue I want to discuss is your hatred of the wizarding world, or as a small group, the Order of the Phoenix.'

'What business is that of yours?' Harry snapped angrily.

'It is not my business, of course; I am merely curious.' Dumbledore paused. 'You must have a reason for hating me so much, Harry. It is not common for hatred to be born from nothing. I just want to know your reason. You seem to hate our Order, too – why is that?'

Harry snorted derisively, wishing the old man would drop his calm and friendly, almost grandfatherly, front and get back to the manipulating bastard front Harry knew was there.

'You really want to know?' Harry finally replied. 'Fine, I'll tell you, even if you don't deserve it. I know that it was you who left me with that Muggle bitch I was forced to call "Aunt Petunia", her horrible husband and their disgusting son. I know that it was you who dumped me on their doorstep when I was a baby, and I know that you did not once make sure I was safe. For five years, I thought I was unworthy of love and happiness. For five years, I thought that I was a freak, that I was scum, because my relatives kept on telling me that I was. When I finally ran away when I was six years old, I felt free, and human. When I met Ginny and saved her life, I knew that I was able to love, and be loved. She is my lifelong friend, I love her, and she is the only one I would give my life for. I thought I had proved that when I killed my relatives three years ago.'

He continued glaring at Dumbledore through narrowed, intense eyes.

'Do you see now, old man? Do you now know why I cannot respect you, or give a damn about you? I hope you do. Were it not for you, I could have been, at the very least, healthy and happy.'

'Harry, how could I have known that you had been abused by your relatives?' Dumbledore asked, though he did not meet Harry's eye as he said this, which Harry immediately noticed. 'You are the only child of your mother, and I had thought that your aunt would be happy to take you in. Aside from that, there were wards protecting your home with the Dursleys that protected you, and them, from Voldemort's followers.'

'Followers that I have been able to match in strength for a quarter of my life!' Harry shouted, losing his patience altogether. 'Voldemort's followers are nothing to us, it was only the Lestranges and a select few others that actually put up a fight! This was back when I was a teenager! How can you sit there and lie to me so, old man? How can you not feel shame, how can you keep trying to deflect every bit of blame back to me? You're pathetic!'

Dumbledore stood up, pointing his wand in Harry's face, and Harry laughed in triumph.

'See? You're not the friendly man you were pretending to be! You're a manipulating old fool, and it would be my greatest desire to see you dead at my feet!'

'SILENCE!' Dumbledore shrieked, throwing a Silencing Charm at Harry, which he broke with a non-verbal flick of his wrist. 'I will not sit here and listen to you accuse me of such atrocities, Mr Potter! If you will not take responsibility for your own actions, you will be sent to Azkaban for life without a single doubt from the Ministry! You know this already, do you not? DO NOT DISRESPECT ME!'

He broke off, seeming to regret his burst of temper, and stared at Harry long and hard for a few minutes, before speaking again.

'Forgive me my outburst, Mr Potter. I regret it,' he said with mingled sorrow and regret.

'I'm sure you're quite sorry, Dumbledore,' said Harry with a sneer, turning his head away. 'Could you please leave me alone now? I'm trying to shake off this feeling of pain in my head.' He would be holding his head if his arms were not tied down. He hated being a prisoner. He hated being Dumbledore's prisoner even more.

Dumbledore immediately threw a look of concern.

'Harry, if you are injured from your fall, I can help you,' he said quickly, but Harry silenced him with a look.

'I'll suffer through it, thanks,' he said bitterly. 'Just leave me alone. You can interrogate me another time, I'm sure, and sic Moody on me as well. He was in here earlier, the scumbag.' At these words, Dumbledore's eyes darkened, and Harry figured he was angry at his insult towards Alastor Moody. 'I'm so sorry, Professorhead, I'll try not to offend your minions in future,' he added sardonically, and with that, he closed his mouth and said nothing more.

Dumbledore sighed, turning around to leave. He glanced at Ginny, who was feigning sleep, and sighed again, walking towards the door. He wordlessly unlocked it, walked through it and closed it behind him, and Harry knew he had secured it again.

Struggling in vain against his bonds, Harry lay there, wishing more than anything that he had not stopped at that church when Voldemort had been chasing him.

'What's going to happen now, Harry?' asked Ginny from somewhere to his side.

He did not immediately answer, but turned his head, the only part of his body that he could move, to face her. Though ten years on the run had toughened her exterior and turned her cold, he did not have any doubt in his mind that she was terrified of what was to come. She did, after all, have secrets from her past, and Harry would be damned if Dumbledore knew about them, as he was sure to try to figure out.

'I don't know, Gin,' he finally replied a few minutes later, looking away from her. He wished he could comfort her, but it was impossible. 'I don't know.'

* * *

Author's Note: Four chapters down. As you can see, we're getting to the more intense part of the story: the discovery of Harry and the qualms of what to do with him. Read and review, as usual. The next chapter will be up in a few days as it always is.


	5. Chapter 5: The Wizard's Duel

Story Name: A Life of Rebellion

Author's Note: Letters, thoughts, Parseltongue, and some other forms of writing in this story will be written in Italics. On a rare occasion, bolded writing will be used.

Summary: At the age of six, a young boy runs away from his negligent and cruel relatives. He becomes a thief, an assassin and a division in the war between Light and Dark. With a faithful companion at his side, a battle-scarred Harry Potter searches for the truth about his past.

Disclaimer: JKR owns the series as a whole, I own the fanfic-made and self-created modifications in this story in particular. I take no claim over the Harry Potter series. Any review saying otherwise will be automatically deleted.

**Chapter 5: The Wizard's Duel**

Three days passed since the time Harry had realized he was captured by the Order along with Ginny. In those three days, very little actually happened to him. He'd be interrogated by several of the Order members every few hours or so, but they were no closer to breaking him than they had been when they had first captured him. He had not been on the run from everyone for twelve years just to be beaten by a few days of effort, after all.

Ginny, on the other hand, was having a harder time under all of the strain in keeping quiet. Harry could not blame her, knowing that her past was a touchy subject for the otherwise calm and cold young woman, and he longed to be able to comfort her, but strapped down as he was, the only thing he could do was whisper soothing words into the darkness. Whenever he did this, Ginny looked at him and smiled, and was able to forget her fears of being figured out for a little while, if only for a little while. It was those times that Harry, as well, could suppress his anger and hatred of the manipulating old man who had captured them and held them here. He didn't even know where "here" was.

They had not seen Severus Snape since they had first awoken to their imprisonment, but Harry knew that it was only a matter of time before Snape returned to reassure them, possibly help them. Harry could sense that Snape held no true loyalties to Albus Dumbledore, and nor did he really side with Lord Voldemort. Snape seemed to be on a side completely his own, and it both confused and awed Harry. He wondered what Dumbledore had fed Snape to make him side with Dumbledore's Order. _Well, if Snape was on my side solely because of my mother, it's probably something pertaining to her_. At just the thought of this, his hatred towards Dumbledore deepened even further.

The old man himself had been in once every so often since his first visit, each time attempting to be more friendly than the last. It disgusted and unnerved Harry, who knew and had proved the aged Headmaster's unnatural knack for pretending to be something he just wasn't. Harry only wished he could prove it to the rest of Dumbledore's minions, who more or less waited on Dumbledore's beck and call. It was pathetic. Having lived his life without guidelines binding him, Harry couldn't imagine how people could live like that.

Today, Harry waited in the darkness, figuring that it was probably early morning, somewhere closer to eight o'clock. He wished the interrogator of the morning would hurry up and come, and get this out of the way. He was tired of having to wait all the time for their crap. It was infuriating beyond belief.

Some fifteen minutes later, the door finally opened, and an Order member that had not yet interrogated Harry walked in, shutting the door gently behind him. Harry watched as he locked it and, to Harry's bewilderment, put a Silencing Charm and what looked to be a privacy ward on it. He then turned around to face Harry.

Harry's first impression was that the man was someone the Order had found in the streets. He had thick, brown hair that looked to be graying in several places, and the shabbiest robes – hell, something more akin to rags – that Harry had ever seen. His dark eyes trailed onto Harry, taking in his scar for the briefest of seconds, before walking over to where Harry lay. As he walked, Harry felt a distinct gut feeling somewhere inside him that he had met this man somewhere before, but he could not think of where. Even as realized the familiarity, he knew that he was picturing someone far, far younger.

The man stood before Harry. 'Good morning,' he said simply, his voice slightly hoarse but otherwise low and calm.

Harry stared, wondering what the man was up to. He seemed to be an Occlumens, if not a novice – his shields were not strong – but Harry did not suspect this man of foulplay. Somehow, probably in his gut again, he knew that he could trust this man, at least to some degree.

However, that didn't mean he was going to blindly follow his gut and trust the man immediately. 'Morning,' he replied. 'Are you here to interrogate me?'

'To some degree,' said the older man, and to Harry's surprise, he was grinning now. 'First, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Remus Lupin.'

The familiarity struck Harry with the force of a troll, and Harry now knew how he knew this man. The last time he had seen the man, however, had been as an infant. Unlike most, Harry could remember his childhood well, and that was how he knew and followed his parents so well. Wishing he could move now, Harry inclined his head in greeting, not knowing if the man was aware of the familiarity Harry was now seeing.

'Nice to meet you,' he replied, and for the first time he said it without sarcasm. 'As you more than likely know, I am Harry Potter.'

'I know only too well,' said Lupin. 'I knew your parents and godfather well.'

'I am aware,' said Harry, and this time he was the one who grinned. 'I remember you, Moony.'

Lupin looked alarmed. 'You know that nickname, Harry? Even after almost eighteen years, you still remember?'

'Those memories are all I had when I was a child, abused and neglected by my relatives,' Harry murmured, staring at Lupin, who, like Sirius Black, meant much to him. 'I miss those days, but ... you've seen what I've become, Remus, and whether I like it or not, it's who I am now.'

'But do you like it?' Lupin asked.

'It's hard to say,' Harry admitted, 'and I admit that trying to make you understand would cause you to dislike me greatly, but I'll try anyway. I have an immense hatred for Muggles, who I only know as cold and ruthless; I have murdered many times, and tortured even more; I killed my last living relatives and, for good measure, my uncle's sister; but even after all of that, I feel empty, almost evil. Is this what someone is supposed to feel, Remus? I don't enjoy killing; I'll only do it if it's necessary. And I'm sorry, but I think it would be necessary to murder Albus Dumbledore for what he forced my life to become.'

For reasons Harry would never, ever understand, Lupin did not look angry or even disgusted at Harry. On the contrary, he was looking at Harry in a way that conveyed understanding.

'I might not be proud of what you've done in the past, Harry,' he said finally, looking at Harry right in the eye, 'but you are what you are made to be. You did not have the chance to grow up happily, and I think anyone could see that if they really tried. Severus certainly did.'

'You know about what Severus has worked out with us?' Harry asked, surprised now.

'Yes, he came to talk to me almost immediately after his meeting with you,' said Lupin, rubbing his scalp with one hand. 'Severus and I have never been on friendly terms, but I think he knows that what is going on now, and what is to come, is a lot more important than something concerning our childhood feuds. I do not admit that I am fond of Severus, but he has helped me more times in the past than even he is aware of. In return, I have helped him. We are in this together, Harry. I know what Albus is trying to do to you, but what you must understand is that I cannot openly oppose the man who has helped me so many times in the past.'

'I don't like the old man, Remus, but I know of the power of owing a debt to another person,' said Harry, wishing more than ever that he could move. 'I think I read about it somewhere. Anyway, this has been a pleasant chat, but I must ask now: when am I going to be allowed the ability to move my body again? I don't think I've ever felt so stiff in my life, and I lived in a cupboard for five years.'

He had been wandlessly chipping at the bonds for the last three days, and though he felt no immediate relief, he knew that they were straining now. It was only a matter of time, but said amount of time could be any amount ... it could be a few weeks before he had completely chipped them, or it could be a few days. He did not know.

'It's tough, isn't it?' Lupin said, smiling now. 'Albus says he will let you out of the bonds soon, but knowing Albus, it could be a ... not a lie, but a "false truth" on his part.'

Harry sighed.

'I really cannot stand that man,' he muttered. 'Twelve years later, he's _still_ trying to manipulate control on my life ...'

'I agree,' said Lupin quietly, 'but there is little we can do about it at the moment. Right now, he has almost similar power to Cornelius Fudge.'

'Who?' Harry asked.

'Cornelius Fudge. He's the current Minister for Magic, elected almost nine years ago. He's the one who keeps upping the price on your head. It's something like thirty-five thousand Galleons now, as I recall. He wants you captured badly, but luckily for you, he is still unaware of your identity.'

_Thank Merlin_, Harry thought to himself.

'What's my price at?' Ginny asked, using an odd combination of uncaring and curiosity in her tone.

'Twenty-five thousand Galleons,' replied Lupin, looking at her briefly. 'They won't have it as high since they know who you are, otherwise you would be worth as much to the Ministry as Harry here. As it stands, since they know you're a Weasley, they're focusing the majority of their attention on Harry, while keeping a lookout for you.'

Ginny snorted. 'I clearly haven't been trying hard enough.'

There was silence for a few minutes. Harry broke it.

'Remus, I know what the answer is most likely going to be, but I have to ask, selfish as it is. Can you _please_ undo these damned straps on my wrists? If nothing else, I'd like to crack them. They're stiff as hell.'

'I think I can do that,' said Lupin hesitantly. 'You haven't done anything in retaliation since you got here, so I think we can allow you some leeway. Don't make me regret it, Harry.'

'I promise, for you and Snape, I won't act up,' said Harry with a hollow chuckle. 'I have no interest in going to Azkaban, Moony, don't worry. After what Padfoot told me about his stay in Azkaban, I never want to face it, especially after what it did to him ...'

Lupin stopped on the buckle, looking sharply up at Harry.

'You've seen Sirius?'

'I'm the reason no one else has found him,' Harry replied, looking Lupin straight in the eye. 'I'm the one who hid him, almost five years ago. He's currently in Scotland, away from all the fighting. He was already mad due to his grief, but now ... well, he's not right anymore. When I first met him, not knowing who he was, I wanted to put the poor guy out his misery. Two best friends dead, one best friend thinking he's a criminal, one best friend who framed him for said crime, one old Headmaster et all trying to force their way back into his life after he was proved innocent.'

Lupin paled, but nodded, indicating that Harry should continue. He continued undoing the buckles on Harry's wrists.

'Pettigrew's still on the run, doing Merlin knows what for Voldemort. He has a silver hand. I've fought him once before, too. As I recall, my Bludgeoning Hex threw him across a road. He's not known for his strength, only his slippery sneakiness. But I know that I have to be the one to kill him. After what he did to my parents and to Sirius, I can never forgive him, nor can I let him live.'

'Is murder your default answer in terms of revenge, Harry?' Lupin murmured.

Harry flinched. 'Yes. It's all I know, Remus.'

Lupin had finally succeeded in undoing the buckles on Harry's wrists, letting him stretch them. He could not be completely freed, but it was nice to have a small freedom. When Lupin turned away briefly, he flexed his wrist, letting his magic flow through it, and made another attempt on the bonds on his arms and legs. Unlike the other times, he felt a direct response; the chips were larger than before. The magical bonds were breaking.

Lupin, who did not know this, turned around. 'There you go, Harry.'

'Thanks, Moony,' Harry said, smiling genuinely, though guiltily. He hated himself for using his father's best friend, who had never done one thing against Harry, for his own eventual escape, but he had no choice. If he wanted to escape, he needed it done sooner than a couple of weeks' time.

Lying back against the table more comfortably than he had in a while, Harry stared at Lupin, who had gone over to undo the bonds on Ginny's wrists as well. She looked visibly relieved. Lupin then made Ginny's table move towards Harry's, so that they were able to touch if they reached out enough. Harry nodded his thanks at Lupin, who grinned weakly and sat down in a chair he conjured.

'Who else is in this Order, Remus?' Harry asked. 'I ... sort of threatened to kill them all if Dumbledore told you all my identity, so I might as well know.'

Lupin looked a little troubled at these words, but made no comment.

'Let's see ... there's Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody, you've met them ... there's Ted Tonks, his wife Andromeda, and their daughter, Nymphadora; just call the daughter Tonks, because she won't hesitate to hurt you if you address her by first name ... there's also Dedalus Diggle, Hestia Jones, and Aberforth Dumbledore ... there's a bunch of Department Heads from the Ministry ... there were Albert Runcurn and Lancelot Ogden, but they were killed not long ago ... most of the professors of Hogwarts, including Severus and myself, and Dumbledore of course ... and there's a couple of others, but I can't think of all their names. The Tonks daughter is a Metamorphmagus, meaning she can change her appearance at will.'

Harry briefly remembered his scuffle with Runcurn, but dismissed the memory at once. He didn't have a clue who this Ogden was. Professors and Department Heads were a given. There were some names he did not know, but he figured that if he was stuck here, he'd learn them in due time.

All the easier for him to discern his victims.

Pushing himself into a more comfortable position, Harry decided to speak again.

'Most of those are familiar names, but some of them are not,' he said. 'Though, now that I think about it, I did hear someone yell out something like "Was that Ogden?" during that little scuffle in Godric's Hollow. Maybe that was the guy. He wasn't killed by me, though, he was hit by a stray curse.'

Lupin nodded, not trusting himself to speak about Harry's casual front about murder.

'Remus, there is one thing I need to ask you,' said Harry quietly, now looking sullen. 'Why didn't you ever come to at lease check up on me when I was imprisoned in my relatives' home? I didn't even know about wizardly until after I was kicked out at age six.'

'For several reasons,' Lupin replied, rubbing his temple and knowing that Harry would not like the answers. 'Firstly, Albus told us to avoid doing so, as he seemed to think you were safer without wizarding contact ... with the possibility of Death Eaters looking to kill you, we thought it made sense. Secondly, I have no idea where your relatives' home is, as I have never met your relatives, aside from Petunia. Thirdly is Petunia. I cannot stand that woman.'

Harry stared at Lupin, taking in the answers to his questions, before nodding. He did not like them, but he was not going to hate the man for not knowing. He could tell that Lupin had nothing to do with his original placement at number four, Privet Drive.

'Listen, Harry, I can't stay here,' said Lupin, checking a gold watch. 'Albus would get suspicious if I did. Even if my Occlumency isn't superb, I can avoid eye contact. I will drop in if I can, but if I do not, good luck, cub.'

'"Cub"?' Harry asked.

Lupin smiled and replied, 'Don't ask, it was Sirius who used to call you it. See you, Harry.'

'Goodbye, Remus.'

Lupin stood up, vanishing his chair with a flick of his wand, and walked towards the door. Flicking his wand again, he disabled the wards he had brought up earlier, unlocked the door, stepped through it and closed it behind him. Harry stared at the door for a few minutes afterward, sighing deeply; he felt he could have known Lupin a lot better had his life not been meddled with.

He shook his head of the regrets and thoughts, reminding himself that if he had not gone down this path, he would never have met Ginny, who probably would have died in the captivity of the Muggle thugs.

'All right, Harry?' Ginny asked quietly, twitching against the bonds as she turned her head to face him.

'I've been better,' he admitted, still thinking about his past, but at the same time picking at the magic surrounding the bonds again. He could feel a great change in them now; they were far weaker than they had been before. With a few more hours work, he could escape from them, provided he was not caught in the process of weakening them.

'I wish Snape would come back,' muttered Harry, staring at the door again. 'He'd probably help us escape if he thought he could get away with it.'

Staring at their wands, which were still tied down on a nearby table, he wondered if it would be more beneficial to simply pick at the barriers on the wands, summon them to him and then destroy the barriers holding him down, with little effort compared to doing so wandlessly. He decided to try it. Focusing his magic into his index finger, he pointed it at the wands and began tracing it through the air, swiping at the magical barriers surrounding them. They were surprisingly weak.

_Probably figured we'd try to free ourselves first, and then go for the wands_, he thought to himself. _Well, the old man thought wrong._

'Ginny,' he whispered, making sure his voice was not heard outside the door, 'help me pick at the wards on our wands. We can escape easily using them, as opposed to wandlessly trying to.'

She nodded, understanding immediately. Just as Harry had done, she pointed at the wands and began to poke at them with her magic, concentrating hard on shattering the wards surrounding them.

The two of them together were able to do the job with little effort compared to Harry doing it alone. The wards were still up, but they were slowly getting weaker, and Harry knew that in minutes, their wands would be free. Continuing, he broke down ward by ward, until finally, only one weak line was left to break. He was just about to break it when the door opened again. Quickly dropping his hands, and urging Ginny soundlessly to do the same, they watched as Dumbledore strolled into the room.

'Ah, Mr Potter, still awake I see,' he said casually, as though he were offering Harry a drink. His response was a filthy look. 'And how are we this morning, young sir and young madam?'

'The comfort arrangements are dreadful,' Ginny said sardonically, 'but I think we're all right otherwise.'

Dumbledore shot her a glare that was both amused and annoyed before turning back to Harry. 'Well, my boy, you have been with us for almost a week now and we are no closer to finding the answers we seek. I do believe that this calls for – what was the Muggle term? – desperate measures.'

'What are you talking –?' Harry began, but he was interrupted by Dumbledore pointing his wand in Harry's face.

'I have no choice, Harry,' Dumbledore said sadly. 'I must know what you have been doing, and where you have been, all these years, and for that, if you will not tell me, I must find out myself. I hope you can forgive me, Harry.'

'Don't you dare!' Harry shouted, completely disregarding Dumbledore's wand. 'Don't do it, old man! I'm warning you!'

Dumbledore sighed, shooting Harry an apologetic look, before directing his wand at Harry's eyes and crying, '_Legilimens_!'

Something in Harry's mind crashed, as though hit by the force of a horde of trolls, and Harry felt his Occlumency barriers, for the first time in years, tested to their full limits. Dumbledore's spoken intrusion felt worse than any intrusion on his mind had ever felt, and yet Harry held on, holding his barriers to as strong as they could be. It was, however, not to last: Harry's shields were slowly crumbling.

'GET OUT OF MY HEAD!' Harry screamed, but Dumbledore did not stop. The barriers were growing weaker and weaker, and tied down as he was, Harry could only resist with half his power.

Harry could now see memories that he recognized well, but they seemed to come to him as though from a great distance, and he knew that his resistance was not going to last much longer, perhaps a few seconds –

Then, suddenly, Dumbledore's wand jerked upwards and Harry felt himself flying back into his own body, and he saw Dumbledore stumble backwards, his wrist singed slightly: Ginny had apparently fired off a wandless Stinging Hex at him.

'You will regret that, Miss Weasley!' shouted Dumbledore, pointing his wand at her now, and suddenly Harry felt something in him shatter, and all of his patience and self-restraint vanished completely. He pointed his hand at the wands and shouted, '_Accio_!'

The remaining barriers surrounding the wands shattered with great force as the wands flew into Harry's hand; not wasting a moment, he pointed both of them together and shouted, '_Impedimenta_!' and Dumbledore was thrown backwards, hitting the wall behind him, dazed by the force of two spells in one. Harry pointed the two wands at his remaining bonds, shouted, '_Relashio_!' and the bonds flew off, burning with the force of his magic. He climbed on top of his table and jumped from it as Dumbledore's Stunning Spell hit it, splintering it into pieces. Pointing the two wands at Ginny, he broke the remaining bonds covering her and tossed her wand to her. She caught it and pointed it at the door, which flew open.

Dumbledore had gotten up, though he still looked dazed, and tried to subdue them again, but Harry and Ginny together ran out of the room, dashing down the hallway toward whatever doorway, or staircase, they could find. As they ran, they saw Mad-Eye Moody standing at the other end of the hall, blocking their way.

'Oh no you don't, Potter!' shouted Moody, pointing his wand at Harry, who reacted immediately, sending a silent Disarmer at Moody that sent his wand flying across the room and coming to stick into the wall. Harry followed up with a Bludgeoning Hex that slammed Moody through the doors, throwing him down the stairs beyond.

Ginny was at the doors first, and she flew through them, trampling over a semi-conscious Moody as she ran, and Harry jumped over him and ran full force down the stairs, only picking up speed when they reached the bottom. Together, still running, they blasted open the doors with such force that the doors were blasted off their hinges, hitting another Order member that they did not stop to recognize. They dashed past, running down what looked to be a cafeteria, throwing Vanishing Spells at every object they saw, forcing their way through the area.

They had not seen Dumbledore since they had escaped the room, but Harry knew, even without thinking, that he was following them, using his magic to keep up. That they had not run into more Order members than they had seen was a mystery in and of itself, and yet they could not stop to solve it, knowing that they had to reach the Disapparition point, the place where the fields were open and clear, allowing for safe escape.

They passed a window, and in their sprint Harry saw a dozen or so people outside, armed and ready for a fight. They were coming up to another window and Harry grabbed Ginny's hand, telling her without words that they were going to jump.

'Don't get us killed, Harry!' Ginny shouted.

Harry scarcely heard her; pulling her with him he ran at the window, jumping through it; they sailed through the air, down three stories at least, falling alongside thousands of glittering and shimmering pieces of glass. They landed on their feet, the glass showing upon them, and Harry looked up. His heart dropped at the sight.

Dumbledore had somehow gotten ahead of them during the chase. He was standing a few yards from them, surrounded by nine people in traveling cloaks, all of whom were pointing wands directly at Harry and Ginny, who had their own wands raised, ready for the fight. At this, Dumbledore raised his silver eyebrows, looking both skeptical and disapproving of their choice regarding the situation.

'Harry, please,' he said impatiently. 'You're outnumbered five to one. You've been out of commission for the better part of a full week. Don't make such a ridiculous decision. You can't fight your way through all of us.'

Harry just laughed, a loud laugh that hit all of their ears like an angry carrying ring.

'Watch us,' he hissed.

Dumbledore raised his hand and pointed at them, and the other Order members all dashed at Harry and Ginny, who ran at them in turn. With a quick flash, two Order members fell to Stunning Spells immediately, and the others raised their wands and cast Disarming and Stunning Spells of their own. Ginny was throwing Bludgeoners, not wanting to chance hitting Harry with a stray Killing Curse; Harry, meanwhile, was casting everything from Stunning Spells to Bone-breaking Hexes.

One of the Order members, who had spiky pink hair, jumped at Ginny next. She grabbed Ginny's wand arm and forced it upwards, following up with pointing her wand at Ginny's face. Next thing she knew, her wand had been blasted out of her hand, and she had fallen back, clutching a heavily bleeding wrist.

'Watch out, Tonks!' shouted another Order members, who had a bowler hat.

The woman called Tonks moved away, still holding the bleeding mass that was her hand, and Harry went to Ginny, holding her tight.

'You all right?' he asked.

'Fine,' she replied, kissing him quickly. 'Harry, watch out!'

Harry turned and immediately forced himself and Ginny out of the way as an Imperius Curse soared past them, breaking against a brick wall on the building. It had been Dumbledore who had cast it; he was standing just a small distance away, his wand outstretched.

'You're not getting away, Harry!' he shouted, his anger clouding his judgment, and Harry knew that he was not thinking rationally anymore. 'You have killed too many, you have caused too much pain to our world! You cannot leave here!'

'I've done no more than you have, you manipulating old bastard!' Harry shouted back, raising his wand as well.

As they pointed their wands at each other, a shimmering dome rose around them, cutting them off from everyone else. Ginny, who had seen this kind of phenomenom before, merely walked through it and stood to the side, her arms folded. Tonks, whose hand appeared to be healed, tried to pass through as well, only to be blasted backwards through the air, landing painfully on her back.

'What is the meaning of this?' shouted the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was closer to Dumbledore's side of the barrier.

Harry looked at him once, a long, calculating look, before staring directly into Dumbledore's blue eyes, and he knew that Dumbledore knew exactly what was about to happen as well; the old man had surely seen this in his war against the dark lord, Grindelwald, if not earlier in life.

'A true wizard's duel,' he replied in a strange voice, one that carried, not hatred or anger, but a calm, cold ring.

Dumbledore nodded, his own eyes carrying a blaze to them that was rarely seen in those sparkling orbs. He looked calm and collected as well, and he beckoned at one of his Order members, who Harry recognized as Minerva McGonagall; she had interrogated him a couple of days previously. She, like Ginny, passed through the barrier effortlessly, and stood off to the side as well, keeping a sharp eye on Ginny, who smirked but otherwise ignored the elderly professor of Hogwarts.

'What is going on, Albus?' cried Tonks, who had gotten up and walked towards the barrier, eyeing it angrily, not liking what it was and how strong it was. 'Why can none of us pass except you four?'

'Because a wizard's duel has, on each side, a wizard or witch and their second,' sneered Harry, answering the question before Dumbledore could. 'The barrier rises as a means to guarantee this, otherwise anyone could jump in and interrupt the sacred battle known as the wizard's duel. I am not taking any chances at letting one of you Order people underhand me with trickery; hence, the barrier arose when I silently challenged the old man here to the duel. He seems to have chosen that woman as his second, as I have chosen Ginny.'

'"_Underhand"_? You accuse US of underhanded play, Mr Potter?' yelled McGonagall, actually shaking with rage.

'Yes, actually, I do!' Harry yelled back, glaring at her now. 'Or is the fact that one of you Stupefied me from behind, carried me back here and tied me to a table fair and honest play? I can honestly say that I've never taken any prisoners in my twelve years of magical history.'

'No, you've instead committed murder and theft!' screeched McGonagall.

Harry's eyes narrowed further, but he did not spare McGonagall another reply, knowing full well that any reason he gave would fall on deaf ears anyway. He instead turned to again face Dumbledore, who stood fifteen feet away and looked rather interested with the coming event. This surprised Harry, though he again said nothing.

'Are you ready, _Albus_?' Harry asked.

'Indeed, Harry, I am prepared to face you,' Dumbledore replied pleasantly. 'What are the conditions for this duel? Or, to rephrase, what do you get if you win?'

'My freedom of this capture,' said Harry, 'and what do you want if you win?'

'You're support of the Order in this war,' Dumbledore said soundly, bringing a shocked Harry and an even more shocked Ginny into a near faint.

'No dice, Dumbledore,' snapped Harry. 'Nothing, not even an honorable duel, could make me fight for you.'

'Then you are not going anywhere,' Dumbledore said simply.

Silence met these words.

'Fine!' Harry spat. 'Fine! If you win, I will be forced to fight on your behalf! But you'd better believe, Dumbledore, that this fight will be far from easy! I plan on ending your reign here and now! You're going to die, Albus!'

'Hold your tongue and fight me, Mr Potter,' Dumbledore snapped, losing his patience. Something had changed. He looked colder, more menacing, and for a second, Harry was concerned about more than simply the outcome of the duel.

Harry nodded, bowing to Dumbledore, who bowed as well. He then raised his wand; the duel had begun.

'_Crucio_!' Harry shouted.

The scarlet jet of light shot from Harry's wand, but Dumbledore deflected it with a flick of his own wand and fired off a Bludgeoning Hex. Harry knew that he was going for a quick finish; the dome surrounding would electrify the people who touched it now that the duel was underway.

Dodging it, Harry aimed another curse at Dumbledore, who wandlessly conjured a Shield Charm to absorb it and disappear, firing three different spells to subdue Harry, who was slowly losing his patience -

'Are you here to fight me, Dumbledore, or defend yourself?' Harry yelled angrily, deflecting all three spells with an almost lazy flick of his wand. 'This is pathetic! I'm barely putting in effort and I'm matching you!'

'Perhaps I am not trying either, Harry,' said the old wizard quietly, shooting another Stunning Spell, which Harry, to prove his point, smashed aside with a swipe of his hand that wasn't holding his wand. Sighing, and knowing that Dumbledore simply wouldn't put up a decent effort, Harry fired off a Bone-breaking Hex, which hit Dumbledore on the elbow of his left arm.

The snapping of Dumbledore's bone could be heard everywhere in the dome, and yet no one acknowledged it. McGonagall was looking from Dumbledore to Harry as though watching a tennis match; Ginny, however, was watching Harry, her arms still folded. Harry fired off two more Bludgeoning Hexes at Dumbledore, both of which missed and hit the dome. One bounced and hit McGonagall, who was thrown into the barrier, fried by the heat and electro-magical waves, and fell to the ground, unconscious.

'No! Minerva!' Dumbledore shouted, clearly aghast, and Harry seized his opportunity: he fired off a Disarmer, which knocked Dumbledore's wand clear into the air, with Ginny catching it with a swipe of her arm and pocketing it. Harry followed up with two circular motions with his wand, ending with a sharp upward flick, and Dumbledore was blasted from the spot, thrown into the barrier, which did to him what it had done to McGonagall. He fell to the ground, but remained conscious.

'I win, Dumbledore,' Harry said calmly.

'Not quite,' Dumbledore said with a small smile.

Harry didn't realize what Dumbledore meant until a split-second before it happened: jumping backwards, he saw an uprise of blue magical energy coming up in a pillar of light from the ground, shooting into the dome and adding to it. The dome, fed with pure magic, was forced to expand, gaining twice its diameter as it moved. Harry, who had watched this uprise of power in something akin to awe against himself, stood at the ready again, circling Dumbledore in long strides. The older man had gotten to his feet, his arm completely healed.

'You're unarmed, old man,' Harry sneered, keeping his wand trained on Dumbledore's chest. 'I think that means I win, unless you wish to cheat and attack my second.'

'I don't need to,' said Dumbledore, and to Harry's shock, disgust and bewilderment, he sounded cheerful. He flicked his wrist, and like a gunshot, another wand shot into his hand. 'You didn't think I'd come unprepared, did you, Mr Potter? I wouldn't want to disappoint, after all.'

Next, Dumbledore grabbed the front of his outer cloak and threw it over his head and off of him on one swipe, letting it fall to the ground behind him.

'Let's continue,' Dumbledore said in a content tone.

He fired off another two spells, both Impediment Jinxes, and both of which Harry flicked aside with the utmost ease. What Harry could not understand was Dumbledore's infuriating calmness, when considering the fact that none of his spells were making contact.

Harry fired off another Cruciatus Curse, but Dumbledore turned on the spot and vanished, reappearing a little ways to the right. Still spinning on the spot, he halted and fired off another spell, which Harry repelled with another flick of his wand. It was like fighting an attacking dancer.

'I'm not in the mood for your games, Albus!' shouted Harry, who was angry at Dumbledore's mocking act now. 'Stop toying with me!'

'As you wish, Harry,' Dumbledore replied, and suddenly, four spells, all seeming to fly at him at the same time, soared towards Harry, who knew them to be advanced Stunning Spells. Knowing he couldn't block them from this degree of distance, he Disapparated out of the way, reappearing behind Dumbledore, who had spun and fired off a Bludgeoning Hex in the split-second that Harry had taken.

_The old bastard is fast!_ Harry mentally said in awe.

Quickly flicking it away with his wand, he turned and aimed a Bone-breaker at Dumbledore's wand arm, but it was absorbed by yet another shield that appeared as though from nowhere at the very last second. This time, however, when the advanced Stunner flew from Dumbledore's wand, Harry was ready: he conjured a stone figure, which deflected the spell with its arm.

'Meet my third, Dumbledore!' Harry jeered.

'Two can play at that game, Harry,' said the older man with a smile. 'You are not the only one who is advanced at transfiguration, dear boy. I was quite a hand at it myself.'

Harry's conjured figure flew at Dumbledore, who wordlessly blasted it to pieces with a sharp jabbing motion of his wand, but he acted instantly, whipping his wand in a sharp flourish. The pieces of the stone figure spun around as though caught in a whirlwind and joined together, forming a larger than life arm, which swiped at Harry with a large fist the size of a table.

Harry, however, was ready for the blow, and conjured a silver shield that he hooked his arm into and blocked the fist with; he felt the breaking of his arm but knew it could have been far worse. Throwing the arm back with his shield, he tossed the shield aside and pointed his wand at the giant fist, which blew to smithereens; his spell continued and slammed into the dome, which absorbed it.

'Not bad, Harry!' Dumbledore said, smiling genuinely now. He looked to be enjoying the duel. 'You are matching my every strike, something that no wizard has done since Lord Grindelwald's days as a Dark wizard! You should be proud, dear boy!'

'I am proud, Headmaster,' said Harry with a vicious grin, 'but of something entirely different!' He laughed, nodding behind Dumbledore, who spun around to see a huge bolt of magic shoot at him from inside the dome. The wizened man jumped out of the way, but not before it took a large chunk of flesh from his forearm. Hissing in pain, Dumbledore directed his wand at the wound, which closed itself immediately, and due to this he did not notice Harry fire two more similar spells into the dome's magical walls.

'What have you done, Harry?' Dumbledore said, and for the first time, he sounded a little fearful.

'Manipulated the dome's power,' was Harry's snide reply. 'Simply by firing spells into it, I can redirect them from the dome's walls right at you with lightning speed! And the best part is that I can do it wandlessly, meaning you can't know when to expect it!'

'Nicely done,' acknowledged Dumbledore. 'That is very powerful magic to perform.'

'I'm a very powerful wizard,' said Harry, shrugging indifferently, channeling his magic into his arm to heal it, if not crudely.

'Indeed you are,' Dumbledore said gravely, 'which is why it would be such a shame for you to end up in Azkaban for life for the crimes you've committed against the wizarding world, Harry. I only wish you could have had the sense to come and find us when you had run away. You could have been happy, perhaps healthy, until you went to Hogwarts.'

'You still don't get it, do you?' roared Harry, finally having had enough of the man's games and acts of complete innocence. 'You wouldn't, either! In your eyes, the side you lead is flawless, with no mistakes or even misjudgments! In your eyes, murderers and thieves are in the wrong, while you, who manipulates people to your own ends, are in the right, shining with effing radiance!'

'You are rambling,' said Dumbledore calmly, but he was silenced by a look from Harry.

'Can't face the truth, Dumbledore, can you?' Harry said furiously, throwing another spell into the dome out of pure anger. 'You know full well that you placed me with my relatives, you knew that they were against magic, and yet you left me there to be tortured and perhaps die! Had I stayed there, my uncle would have killed me long before I got that damn letter! I've told you this, and yet you dismiss it, no doubt for your "greater good"! And what's great about it? For all the good you've done in the last few years, you might as well have gone up to Voldemort and ordered him to take a ten-minute time out! You've done NOTHING to stop Voldemort, because all you people do is Stun and let be! Ginny and I are the ones who are ridding this world of those people, and Ginny and I were the ones who stole the Philosopher's Stone so that no Dark wizard could gain immortality, or anything close to it, like Voldemort did!

'And you know all of this, every damn thing, about Voldemort, and yet you still order people to their deaths!'

Harry stared at Dumbledore, thinking he was seeing the shock and the horror in his eyes, but instead, he saw regret mingled with a coldness he had not seen in anyone but himself.

'You know nothing of my plans, Harry,' whispered Dumbledore, and he sounded livid. 'You know nothing of what is expected of the leaders of war. I must continue fighting, the Order must continue fighting, to push back the darkness, to keep it from striking back.'

'And so far, nothing of the sort has happened,' hissed Harry. 'You haven't repelled the darkness, you've fed it. You gave them their one stronghold that can not be destroyed: Lord Voldemort himself.'

At these words, Dumbledore threw another curse at Harry, but this time Harry knew what it was, and at the sight of it Harry knew that his words had struck home: ducking down, he allowed the Cruciatus Curse to soar above him, breaking against the dome.

'You can't win, Dumbledore!' Harry yelled, and he held his wand upwards, forcing his magic to course through it, as he channeled it upwards, into the dome. 'You can't beat me. Let me show you why!'

With a sharp movement, he brought his wand down, forcing the magic he had channeled to activate.

It was as though a thunderstorm had begun within the confines of the dome. Rumbling could be heard from everywhere, and the dome was crackling with energy, and Dumbledore looked from side to side, wondering which way to focus his attention on. Ginny, too, looked surprised at what was going on, and she stepped back, worried about being hit, her arms still folded. Minerva McGonagall was also off to the side, still unconscious from the previous misfire. The other Order members were watching from outside, wondering what was to come.

Harry grinned. It felt good to have power over the older man, who seemed to know full well that Harry could end their duel at any instant. Letting his eyes glow bright green, completely coated in the color, he brought his wand up again.

From four points on the dome, bolts of magic flew out, all aimed at Dumbledore. All four of these bolts hit Dumbledore at the exact same time, lifting him off his feet in a ball of white light, as he screamed in pain, his robes ripping from his body, which was slowly scarring up. The light did not dim for nearly a minute, by which time Dumbledore was near unconscious.

_He has some stamina for someone well over a hundred years old_, thought Ginny.

Dumbledore staggered a bit, walking towards Harry, his wand still held in his completely limp wand arm. He cradled his arm with his other hand, which was also bleeding.

'H-Harry ...' he spluttered, looking weaker than he had ever looked.

'Silence, you fool!' Harry spat, raising his wand to point at Dumbledore's chest; the tip was glowing green. 'I could kill you right here, right now, and you wouldn't be able to dodge, let alone retaliate! You are at maybe a tenth of your maximum power now, old man! Just surrender, and I'll leave you for today. Next time I will not be so generous.'

Dumbledore fell to his knees, unable to stand any longer.

'Fine,' he whispered, 'I forfeit.'

Harry smirked. As Dumbledore fell to all fours, sweat beading from his face, the dome began to shimmer and then vanish entirely. Harry stood to his full height, and as he walked by, he kicked Dumbledore in the side.

Immediately, three Order members dove at him, but with a lazy flick of his wand all three of them flew backwards out of the way, landing ten feet backwards on their backs. 'Don't push me,' snapped Harry. 'I have still not fully decided against killing your "esteemed" leader of the light. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm leaving. Come on, Ginny.'

Ginny, who had been standing in the same spot watching the scene play out, walked over to Harry. He wrapped an arm around her waist, as she did in turn to him, and together they walked away from the scene, leaving Dumbledore to stare after them, plotting his next move.

As they walked, a voice rang out to call them back.

'Potter! Wait!'

Harry stopped and waited for the man to catch up. He knew without looking that it was Severus Snape running towards them, his robes billowing behind him in a way that only Snape could make them do. He caught up with them and stepped in front of them, catching his breath.

'Yes, Severus? You told us to stop?' Harry asked with a touch of coolness in his voice, but he stared at Snape in curiosity nevertheless, and Snape knew he was neither angry nor impatient.

'Before you leave,' Snape began, 'because I don't know when we will next meet, be it in another run-in with the Order or in the midst of a Death Eater raid, I want you to take this.' He plunged a hand into his inside robe pocket and pulled out what looked to be a small mirror, pushing it into Harry's free hand, which he took with an odd look.

'A two-way mirror?' Harry said, knowing what it was. 'I've seen one of those before. Are you sure you want to take the risk?'

'I think I can handle myself,' Snape smirked, and he raised a hand. 'Until we meet again, Potter.'

Harry eyed Snape's raised hand, then put the mirror into his pocket and took Snape's hand, shaking it.

'Until we meet again, Snape,' he murmured back, his Legilimency warning him that Dumbledore was up and staring at them. He let go of Snape's hand and continued, passing Snape, and keeping his back to the old Headmaster, who he knew was staring at him.

It was only when he reached the point that the anti-Apparition fields ended that he felt something, and he stopped in his tracks. Next second, he pushed Ginny from him and dove to the side, and a scarlet red curse soared past him. The curse continued through the air and hit a nearby building, which caught fire with the intensity of the spell and splintered slightly. Furious, enraged, that Dumbledore would betray the conditions of their duel, Harry spun around and pointed his wand directly at Dumbledore.

'_Tardus Dolensin Nexia_!' he roared.

A jagged bolt of what looked like black lightning shot from the tip of Harry's wand, zooming in zigzags through the air. It went from side to side, from up to down, shooting everywhere, and Dumbledore stared up at it in complete horror, before Harry swiped his wand and the bolt shot down and slammed into Dumbledore, forcing itself into his body.

The lightning began to shine, pouring from everywhere in Dumbledore's body as the old man fought from within to force it back out, but his struggle was in vain, and once again, Dumbledore slumped to the ground, unable to stand. He pushed himself onto his knees with his arms and stared at Harry, who was glaring coldly right back at him.

'That spell is one of the last spells you'll ever hear about, old man,' shouted Harry, who had returned his wand to its holster and was staring at Dumbledore's fallen, pitiful form. His hands appeared to be dying; they were steadily turning a black, singed color. 'It is Dark Magic at its strongest. That spell will steadily sap away your life until you are left with none at all. Then, Dumbledore, you'll die.'

'Harry ... please ... no ...'

'It's your own fault, Dumbledore. You drove me to this.' Harry grinned suddenly, and it was maniacal, almost evil. 'You shouldn't have meddled in my life, thinking you knew best.'

He turned towards Ginny, who had gotten to her feet, and wrapped his arm around her, leading her away with him. Ten feet later, they had turned on the spot and Disapparated.

* * *

'You are quite sure, Rodolphus?' whispered the cold voice of Lord Voldemort from his chair in the dark, vast room he sat in.

'Indeed I am, my Lord,' murmured Rodolphus Lestrange, bowing low on one knee at the bottom of the steps of the altar. 'The boy and his female accomplice have escaped from Albus Dumbledore's clutches. He has returned to wherever he has come from, and we have no factual idea on his current whereabouts. He could effectively be anywhere, my Lord.'

'That boy has eluded me for too long!' shouted Voldemort, fury coursing through his veins as he stood up and descended the steps, coming to stand in front of Rodolphus' kneeling form. His face was covered by a dark hood. 'He has become a thorn in my side, like Dumbledore's precious Order! You will find this boy, Rodolphus, and you will see to it that he is killed, or I will see to it that you are! Lord Voldemort will not forgive any more mistakes or slip-ups on this issue! Have I made myself clear?'

'Quite clear, my Lord ...'

'Good. Now get out of my sight, Rodolphus.'

Rodolphus stood up and walked, albeit quickly, out of the room. Voldemort watched him go, his scarlet eyes staring at the door that Rodolphus had just vanished through. Sighing, he turned around and walked back up the steps to the top of the alter, sinking into his chair. Once again, he felt something aching in his head, and it unnerved him. He was seriously considering the idea that the Dark Magic shrouding him was affecting, even if it seemed impossible.

He stood up, walking around to the back of his chair, and stared into the mirror. He lowered his hood.

The serpentine face that had so resembled Nagini was completely disfigured. Whatever spell that had been, Voldemort could not deny that it was incredibly powerful. His face bore many scars and welts, the most notable of which had been bleeding the most. One scar, which made one of his eyes completely useless, ran down his cheek from above his left eye. He could not see out of it anymore, and he doubted that he ever would. Trying to heal it, even with his own spells, had thus far resulted in nothing but unnecessary pain on his part, and that was something he did not need. He looked away. The sight of his grutesque face disgusted him, he could not pretend otherwise.

He was interrupted from staring at his self-loathed reflection by a knock on the throne doors to the room.

'Enter!' he snapped, anger in his voice.

The door opened and Severus Snape walked in, sweeping over to him. He bent down on one knee and bowed low, thinking – or rather, knowing – that this would appease his Lordship due to the amount of respect that it showed him.

He was, today, wrong.

'Rise, Severus!' Voldemort spat, walking around his chair and coming to stand at the top of the steps. Snape complied, looking a little worried, but remained silent, his stance still halfway respectful. Voldemort neither noticed nor cared. 'What have you come to tell me?' He did not bother beating around the bush as he did so often to his other followers. He held Snape in a higher regard than that, as he did the Lestranges.

Snape visibly flinched at the sight of Voldemort's face, something Voldemort noticed but ignored, knowing full well that he was not a pleasant sight anymore.

'My Lord,' said Snape in a low whisper, 'I have news on Albus Dumbledore for you.'

'I expected you would, given that it is your job on my orders to spy on him!' Voldemort said impatiently, his temper on the brink of breaking. 'What news do you have, Severus?'

Snape hesitated, something that Voldemort, again, did not pay any mind.

'My Lord, it appears that Dumbledore has been struck a heavy blow,' Snape began, trembling slightly. 'H-He –'

'Snape, if I promise not to Cruciate you, will you stop hesitating and just spit it out?'

'Yes, my Lord,' Snape replied, looking visibly relieved. 'As I have said,' and he spoke with more confidence this time, 'the old man has taken a heavy blow this time, my Lord.'

'I know this already, Severus,' said Voldemort, his patience almost completely depleted. 'Rodolphus has just informed me –'

'I do not mean the boy's escape, my Lord,' said Snape, being careful not to reveal the Philosopher's Stone thief's true identity. 'I mean what the wretched child did to Dumbledore right before he escaped. You see, my Lord, the child and Dumbledore had a wizard's duel.'

'A wizard's duel?' Voldemort repeated, his earlier impatience forgotten. 'As in, two opponents and their seconds, and no other intrusions?'

'Yes, my Lord,' murmured Snape in a carrying whisper. 'A dome of pure magical energy surrounded them during this duel, preventing anyone aside from the boy, Dumbledore, the Weasley girl and McGonagall from entering. McGonagall was felled by a curse early on, but the Weasley girl did not actually take part: the boy beat Dumbledore in that duel.'

'_WHAT_?' Voldemort screeched, horrified by this. That made two victories for the boy, one on each of the leaders of the war. It did not make sense. No common thief was this strong! His Death Eaters were child's play to this youth, and even he, the greatest wizard, the most powerful, was matched by him! 'How did he defeat Dumbledore, Severus?'

'The boy is capable of Dark Magic that even your Lordship finds to be incredibly powerful as a force,' said Snape, now a little calmly. 'He was firing all sorts of hexes and curses, and while some were indeed Stunning Spells and Bone-breaking Hexes and others of the sort, he did fire Cruciatus Curses, as well as create and animate an enormous stone figure in about three seconds, which he used to attack Dumbledore. That isn't all, either, my Lord. The boy Disarmed Dumbledore and got away with the wand he had removed from him. Dumbledore no longer has his main wand.

'The boy finally won by manipulating the dome's magical energy to attack with bolts similar to lightning, causing four bolts to strike Dumbledore at the same time. It nearly killed him, as far as I could see.'

Voldemort did not know what to think. In fact, he _couldn't_ think. Were it not for his own immortality, the boy would be fully capable of killing him ... but what if the boy knew? What if, even on the slimmest chance, the boy was able to track down and destroy every tie that bound he, Lord Voldemort, to the earth? Snape had said that the boy was capable of Dark Magic the likes of which he knew and respected as a power ... was it possible that this youth knew his secret?

'Thank you for telling me this, Severus,' said Lord Voldemort, and for the first time, his voice betrayed his thoughts, if only slightly. 'Was there anything else involved from the duel that I need know about?'

'One other thing, my Lord,' Snape replied, avoiding Voldemort's eye. 'When Dumbledore fired off one last spell from behind in a last ditch attempt to subdue the boy, thus breaking the vow he had made in the duel, the young man snapped and hit Dumbledore with an ancient curse. I do not know if you are familiar with it, my Lord – it is a curse that steadily saps away the life force of its victim, and it cannot be stopped. Delayed, yes, but not stopped.'

This was it. There was too much of a coincidence. One of Voldemort's instruments of immortality carried the same curse as the one Snape had described – there was no way that this was by pure chance: the boy knew his secret to immortality.

'So, the old man is dying?' Voldemort questioned.

'Slowly but surely, my Lord, the old man is indeed dying,' comfirmed Snape.

Voldemort walked down the steps that led to the greasy-haired spy, and stopped directly in front of him. He viewed Snape with his one good eye, keeping it narrowed. His Legilimency was not as powerful as it would have been with both eyes used, but he could see into Snape's mind, and he could tell that Snape knew no more on the matter.

'Very well,' whispered Voldemort. 'This is excellent, and terrible, but we can work around. Dumbledore unarmed and dying is something I have wanted for a long time, and now that it has happened, all I must do is find the boy and take the stolen wand. I must have it.' He stared at his faithful servant, who did not look away, though he was visibly disgusted by Voldemort's disfigured face from this range. 'You may leave, Severus, and thank you for bringing me this information.'

'My Lord knows that I am here only to serve him,' said Snape, bowing low.

'And serve me you have, Severus,' acknowledged Voldemort, and Snape left the room, leaving Voldemort to plan for yet another issue that had arisen.

* * *

Author's Note: The incantation that I used, _Tardus Dolensin Nexia_, is a rough translation of the words "slow painful death", and seemed fitting for the curse.

This chapter was meant solely as an escape from the Order, and the duel seemed a good way to do so. I don't honestly know if there are terms to follow when two people do participate in a wizard's duel, since the only canon one we've seen didn't actually happen and was only mentioned briefly, so I inserted a few rules for it for the purpose of the fanfiction.

As you can see, Remus will become a bigger part of the story soon, as will Sirius and Snape. More on that in later chapters. Next chapter will come soon as per usual, so enjoy this one! As always, read and review!


	6. Chapter 6: The Thieves' Tale

Story Name: A Life of Rebellion

Author's Note: Letters, thoughts, Parseltongue, and some other forms of writing in this story will be written in Italics. On a rare occasion, bolded writing will be used.

Summary: At the age of six, a young boy runs away from his negligent and cruel relatives. He becomes a thief, an assassin and a division in the war between Light and Dark. With a faithful companion at his side, a battle-scarred Harry Potter searches for the truth about his past.

Disclaimer: JKR owns the series as a whole, I own the fanfic-made and self-created modifications in this story in particular. I take no claim over the Harry Potter series. Any review saying otherwise will be automatically deleted.

**Chapter 6: The Thieves' Tale**

The news of Harry Potter's escape from the Order of the Phoenix's clutches did not go without anger and fury during the next few days. The fact that Ginny Weasley had escaped with him intensified the anger, and the fact that Severus Snape and Remus Lupin were on good terms with both of them meant that nobody within the Order was able to even smile, let alone think rationally. Albus Dumbledore himself, as the leader of the Order, had spoken to both of them the day after the attack.

'Unless you can give me a good reason why I should not do so,' he had said coldly, and his voice carried to both Snape and Lupin's ears, neither showing any emotion, 'you are out of the Order. Remus, I expected far better than this from you, as I am sure you know exactly the kind of threat Mr Potter really is. Severus, I would never have expected something like this from you, not now and not ever. Excellent spy in Voldemort's forces or not, I cannot forgive this. Both of you are finished with my organization.'

'Fine by me,' Snape had replied, turning his nose to Dumbledore, the man who had made him into the spy he was, the Occlumens he was, and who had ultimately been a grandfatherly figure to Snape from the time Lily and James Potter had died. 'You and I both know that I have been here not for you, not for the Dark Lord, but for Lily – for Lily's child. I don't need you or anyone for that any longer, Albus.'

Lupin had said similarly, yet differently.

'You have lost sight of what is really needed, Albus,' he had said sadly. 'We are at war against the Dark side, not a youthful renegade and his girlfriend. I did not help Harry escape, but if I had been given the chance, I would. I know what part you played in his transformation, Albus, and I agree with Harry and Ginevra when they say that you are to blame as much as they.'

'Get out!' Dumbledore had yelled, and Lupin and Snape left, going their separate ways; their mutual dislike had not ended merely on Harry's part, and they had agreed that they would not partner up to help Harry simply because their partnership in the Order had ended.

Dumbledore had also informed the Ministry of Magic on the identity of the thief, which Cornelius Fudge had very nearly fainted in shock at hearing. The fact that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the one who had vanquished Lord Voldemort the first time and gave the wizarding world five years of peace, was suddenly a Dark wizard twelve years later made Minister Fudge so nervous about spreading the word that he did not know whether he should inform the world.

Unfortunately, Rita Skeeter had somehow found out, and she had taken the question of telling the world out of Minister Fudge's hands.

For several days following the first issue of the _Daily Prophet_ informing the world of the thief's identity, little else was heard. Everyone was shocked, then aggrieved, and then furious. For someone who was supposed to be like a hero, Harry Potter had let down the entire world.

As soon as Harry had found out about this, he felt a strong desire to laugh as well as to kill something.

'It's that Skeeter woman again!' he shouted one night, almost two weeks after his escape. He slammed the newspaper down upon the table of the Muggle home they had stolen from its owners whom they had murdered, because going back to Gyarta's Villa was no longer an option. 'She has the damned newspapers wrapped around her little finger, and now the world knows about me! It's a matter of time before Voldemort himself knows, and then I'll be fighting back both Order members and Death Eaters, along with their leaders, alike! Why can't the world just leave me the hell alone?'

'We've always feared that this would happen, Harry,' said Ginny patiently, who was sitting at the table and staring at the thrown newspaper as though it were an insect. 'We knew that the world would one day know that you were still walking among it, even if we didn't go to Hogwarts. It's just happened earlier than we thought it would happen, that's all.'

'This is that old man's fault,' hissed Harry, his features darkening to an almost inhuman look. 'He couldn't leave well enough alone. He had to take us prisoner – and from a cowardly attack, too –'

'We're murderers,' Ginny pointed out. 'He's the leader of the Order of the Phoenix. Besides, it wasn't a complete waste. We got Remus Lupin's support, and Severus Snape's. There's people risking their own positions to be on our side, Harry, and look at what we've done throughout our lives. We've killed, and stolen, and even destroyed to get where we are. One day, we'll be able to prove that Dumbledore did all of that as well, but from behind the scenes, which is no better.'

'You're right,' he sighed, rubbing his forehead, which was aching again. 'I just wish this damn scar would stop hurting me all the time. It's worse than it's ever been.'

'It's got to have something to do with Voldemort,' Ginny said, standing up and putting a hand to Harry's forehead. She recoiled slightly, her hand red. 'Your forehead is fine ... but your scar is burning! Do you feel the heat coming from it?'

'Yeah,' Harry murmured, sitting down, suddenly weary. He put both hands to his face, staring at the table through his fingers. 'I know it has something to do with Voldemort, but I can't figure out how. The only thing that comes to mind is the failed _Avada Kedavra_, and I can't see how that would create a connection, let alone one that's lingered for almost eighteen years. There's got to be something of it, but what? What could he have had in mind? Did he actually _want_ to kill me?'

'I'd think he did,' replied Ginny calmly, 'if the prophecy is anything to live by. He wanted you dead, but was it simply because of the prophecy? Was it simply because he had to kill you?'

'I can't find answers to my own questions, Ginny, let alone yours,' Harry said wearily. Ginny merely smiled in reply, choosing not to say anything more.

For a while, neither Harry nor Ginny spoke a word. Harry had been silently waiting for his two-way mirror correspondent, Severus Snape, to send them a message, but so far, he had heard nothing. His father's friend, Remus Lupin, had not sent word either, though Harry had not expected Lupin to bother. Whatever Lupin had said to the contrary, Harry knew full well that the aged man was deep into the work of the Order, and if he was not against Harry, he was surely suspicious. He had, after all, partially, not to mention unwillingly, contributed to Harry's escape by loosening his bindings.

Still, he wished he could contact one of the two men. The few times Harry had spoken into the mirror, there had been no answer.

'How long do you suppose it will be before Voldemort learns who you really are?' Ginny asked into the silence, twirling her wand around in her fingers and looking intensely bored. Silently, she conjured a bottle of Firewhisky and took a swig, staring at Harry.

'Who knows?' was his bitter reply. He did not look up, but kept his face in his hands. 'I suppose if we're lucky, he won't know for another little while. If we're not lucky, like we haven't been for a while, he already knows, and let's face it: he's a skilled Dark wizard, and can probably find us, even with our protective spells up and operating on this place. The fact that he's connected to me through my damn scar doesn't help matters for us in the slightest.'

Ginny sighed, putting down her bottle of Firewhisky.

'Harry, there's something I've been wondering ever since your little battle with Voldemort,' she began, unsure of how to voice her question that she had been pondering for days.

Fortunately for her, Harry helped her there.

'You mean the question of how he survived a direct hit from the Killing Curse without so much as a scratch?'

'Well, yeah,' Ginny replied hesitantly.

'I don't know myself,' said Harry wearily, 'but I have suspicions. He said something about being unable to die, and we know that he was a ghost of a form for about five years after I beat him the first time. The thing is, though, that we both survived the Killing Curse, not just me. That's the problem. It rebounded off of me, and that's the reason I wasn't killed, but it hit him dead on, and then ... he still survived, even if his body was gone. Somehow, someway, Voldemort was immortal the night he tried to kill me, and the only question left is how he attained immortality in the first place. It couldn't have been the Philosopher's Stone,' he added, pulling it out of his pocket with one hand, the other still covering his face, 'since we have it now. That means he either used a spell, or different spells, because the only alternative is a ritual, and I can't see that working to make someone immortal. Make them stronger or changed in appearance, maybe, but immortality? Somehow I don't think so. He used a spell of some kind, and I want to know what it is, and I'm going to find out. If he is immortal, I can't fulfill the prophecy, and worse yet, I can't avenge my parents.'

He looked up, anger in his eyes.

'I'm going to kill both of them, you know. Voldemort and Dumbledore, the two Dark Lords. I'm going to kill them both for their combined efforts in manipulating and destroying my life – no offense to you, of course,' he added quickly, and Ginny nodded, her eyebrows furrowed. 'Voldemort killed my family and Dumbledore destroyed my life. Now I'm going to revenge myself on them, since they're so keen on bringing me into everything once again.'

'I can agree with that, Harry,' said Ginny quietly, 'but haven't you nearly killed Dumbledore anyway?'

'Oh, I'm sure he's found a way to contain the curse I placed on him,' said Harry, and his features now changed, becoming less human, 'but that doesn't mean he can hold it at bay forever. What I did to him cannot be removed. I wasn't kidding when I said it was Dark Magic at its strongest.'

She nodded, choosing not to speak her doubts, knowing that Harry probably knew more about it all than she could ever know. It was, after all, his curse.

'For now,' said Harry, standing up, 'I'm going to use this connection. Occlumency doesn't block it, not completely. I can still feel it even with my mind barriers running. If he can get at my mind, chances are I can get at his as well, and I'm going to find the way that will destroy him. After that, I'm going to find and kill Albus Dumbledore, and if any of his cohorts get in my way, I'll kill them as well.'

He looked up at Ginny, who did not look surprised in the slightest.

'And if I run into Peter Pettigrew along the way, I'm going to kill him as well. Anyone else is free reign for either of us, but those three are mine and mine alone. Are you with me?'

Ginny nodded. 'I always will be, Harry.'

* * *

'Let me get this straight,' said Lord Voldemort in a horrible hiss, glaring at the two Death Eaters kneeling before him, his red eyes glowing madly. 'You're telling me that my arch nemesis, the one who I thought had vanished forever twelve years ago, is this thief that stole the Philosopher's Stone? You're telling me that _Harry Potter_ matched me, Lord Voldemort, in skill and power in a one-on-one duel? And Potter put a curse on Dumbledore that is currently sapping his life away?'

'Y-Yes, my Lord, that is correct,' stuttered Rabastan Lestrange, the Death Eater kneeling on the right. 'It was all over the _Daily Prophet_ for days and days.'

'And you, Yaxley,' snarled Voldemort, looking at the other Death Eater. 'What do you have to add in all this?'

'Nothing that Rabastan has not already said, my Lord,' Cyrus Yaxley said calmly and collectedly.

This was as bad as spitting at Voldemort's feet.

'_CRUCIO_!' Voldemort yelled, hitting Yaxley and forcing him to the ground, to scream in pain and to feel his body slowly tear up from the inside. 'Why do you pester me if you have no useful information, Yaxley? Do you think yourself important enough to disrupt my time and affairs? Lord Voldemort is not pleased, Yaxley, not pleased at all.' That said, he released the curse, and Yaxley returned to his kneeling position, albeit shaking still.

'F-Forgive me, m-my Lord,' said Yaxley in a hiss of pain, unable to shake off the agony he had felt. 'I-I'll do better ...'

'Lord Voldemort certainly hopes so, Yaxley ...'

Rabastan was now shaking uncontrollably, afraid for his life. Voldemort was angry, angrier than he had been in a very long time, and the reason was quite obvious: Harry Potter was back, and Voldemort saw him as a personal threat. If the Potter boy was this strong, chances of victory were not as great as Voldemort has always predicted.

Especially if the boy knew about Voldemort's Horcruxes, which Voldemort was fretting about the most.

'You are free to go,' Voldemort said distractedly. 'Get out of my sight!' And Rabastan and Yaxley flew to their feet and ran from the room.

Voldemort sat down, thinking about the six different items he had used that had become his Horcruxes ... first and foremost, of course, had been the Gaunt ring, hidden within their home, which was little more than a shack ... second had been the diary, his personal diary, the one that gave instruction on how to open the Chamber of Secrets, which he had relocated to Malfoy Manor, to be protected by Lucius at all times ... the third was his locket, the locket of Slytherin, in the cavern along the sea ... fourth was the cup, Hufflepuff's cup, which was hidden within the ruins of his former orphanage; much as he hated the place, there had been an effective spot to bury it, in yet another cavern ... fifth was the diadem, which he had put in Hogwarts, in a room only he knew about, ensuring its safety ... last was, of course, his own snake, Nagini; being unable to use the sword of Gryffindor, he had bound with his snake even further, underlying the connection to Slytherin and protecting his own piece of soul ...

And now, of all things, Harry Potter had Albus Dumbledore's wand ... was that what Voldemort had been looking for all this time? Did Harry Potter hold the Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick? The wand that made its holder truly invulnerable, the wand seen in countless legends? Did Voldemort need the Elder Wand if he was truly to destroy Harry Potter? He had seen what their wands had done, after all, and knew that his current wand would never destroy Potter ... the connection was no coincidence ... but what had caused it? And how had Potter created a powerful enough beam of magic to disfigure he, Lord Voldemort, so tremulously?

Every one of these questions and more burned in Voldemort's mind, and he hated it, but he knew that unless he found answers, he could not best Harry Potter ... but at least for now, he knew that Potter could not best him ... not while his Horcruxes still worked and operated ...

Making up his mind quickly, Voldemort rose from his chair and pointed his wand at the Dark Mark.

'Lucius!'

The voice issued as a high, cold hiss, and was responded to immediately.

'My Lord? How can I help you, my Lord?'

It was Lucius Malfoy's voice, and it came from the same Dark Mark that Voldemort spoke through.

'Lucius, I must know ... is the diary still there? Is the diary I put under your advanced protection still safe?'

Mr Malfoy's voice came back after a few moments.

'O-Of course, my Lord. There has been no move by the newly discovered Harry Potter, nor the Order of the Phoenix, nor Dumbledore himself, to steal the diary. It is still safe and sound, locked in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, as you instructed us.'

'Good. Very good. Thank you, Lucius.'

'Of course, my Lord, of course ...' The Dark Mark stopped glowing, and the connection shut down.

Feeling only slightly reassured, he threw Floo poweder into the fireplace, letting it burn before he spoke.

'Bellatrix, get over here.'

He was intent on making sure the cup was safe as well.

* * *

Miles and miles away, Harry Potter grasped his head in pain as an almost blinding flash of pain crossed his red scar. He jolted out of the chair, aghast and, oddly enough, understanding.

'Harry? What did you see?' Ginny Weasley asked, looking up at Harry.

'It's the strangest thing,' he said, sitting back down hesitantly, staring at Ginny. 'I heard Voldemort talking to Lucius Malfoy, something about a diary ... then I saw that woman, Bellatrix Lestrange ... Voldemort was talking to her, mentioned a cup ... I think it was Hufflepuff's cup. I could feel his emotions in overdrive. He was worried, distressed, angry, and in the end ... relieved. As though one of his greatest fears was not realized, but almost had been.'

He stared at his hands.

'Whatever those things were, they're important to Voldemort. I think it's the secret to his immortality, if not just two of them.'

He thought harder, raking his memories for anything that could be seen as important as Helga Hufflepuff's cup to Voldemort, or this supposed diary ... he distinctly remembered, in his mind, Voldemort thinking about four other things along with the cup and diary, but remembering them was difficult.

'Along with the diary and cup, there's four other things Voldemort treasures equally as much, and I'm thinking they're all equally important ...'

Then, as though he had known all along, as though a dam had burst in his mind, he remembered Voldemort's thoughts –

In his mind, six different things floated into sight, and he could see what they all were, he could even see that one of them was properly alive, and he knew that somehow, in some way, he was connected to all six of those mysterious things, the treasures that Voldemort considered more important than any life aside from his own ... and he knew, even if he didn't know how he knew, that those things were the key to destroying Voldemort's immortality.

Then a name floated into his mind, and he knew what they all had in common, knew as though he had known from the get-go: Horcruxes ...

With as huge an effort as he could muster, Harry canceled out all of these thoughts with his Occlumency shields, and he turned to look at Ginny, who had been staring at him with growing concern. Clearly, his mental reveries had not gone unnoticed.

'I saw them,' he said, and Ginny stood up, shocked. 'I saw the items that Voldemort is so worried about. He thinks I somehow already knew about them, and that's why he was talking to Lestrange and Malfoy about it, because they're protecting two of them. Malfoy's got the diary, and Lestrange has the cup. There's four other objects as well ... there's a locket that belonged to Slytherin, a diadem that belonged to Ravenclaw, a ring that belonged to his magical relatives, and a snake that currently belongs to him. The only other location I know about is the snake, who's with Voldemort now.

'Those objects ... they're called Horcruxes, and apparently they keep the maker tied to the living realm, so that Voldemort is effectively unable to die. That's why my killing curse didn't do much more than throw him backwards. He split his soul, and put each piece into his objects, and that's why he's so worried about their security, because he thinks they're at risk of exposure and destruction to us.'

He thought harder, but nothing else was coming up.

'The ring, locket and diadem are out there somewhere, and I'm sure if I used the connection for long enough that I could find their locations, but for now I can't keep this up ... my head is killing me ... my scar is almost cleaving my forehead ...'

He placed a hand to his scar, which felt as though it were on fire.

'Harry, your forehead is red, and your scar is beyond that, it's scarlet!' Ginny exclaimed, both hands spread across the table as she stared into Harry's face. 'You're going to bed right now. You can't stay awake with a fever that high! If you die from it I'll be on my own, and I'm not as skilled with magic as you are, they'd catch me soon after!'

'Ginny, I'd never get to sleep!' Harry said loudly, and he stood up as well. 'Voldemort, whether it's intentional or not, is throwing his own thoughts into my mind, and because of that damned scar, I can feel every one of them! He's showing me things he would never want another living soul to know without even realizing it, and Occlumency only keeps it out for so long! And I think I know why!

'Remember when you dove into my mind, and we both saw a white fog of some sort enter me through my scar when Voldemort was banished the first time? Well, I think I know what it is now! It's not Voldemort's remains, or anything trivial like that ... it's a piece of his soul. I'm as much a Horcrux as any of those items, and unless I'm mistaken, this is what the prophecy means. I'm the one _with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord_, or whatever that prophecy said, because he made me so. He marked me with a piece of his own soul; whether intentional or not is the remaining question.'

'But ... Harry,' said Ginny, choking slightly on her words, 'if that means what I think it means ... you have to die to make Voldemort a mortal again?'

'I don't know ...'

Was this another reason why Voldemort was afraid? Did Voldemort know what he had done when he had been vanquished by Harry the first time? Harry had, for the last nearly eighteen years, housed a bit of Voldemort's own soul, an eighth of Voldemort's life ... but was it possible that Voldemort had known what he had done? Was this why Voldemort wanted Harry dead so badly? But that didn't add up at all ... if Harry was actually a Horcrux of Voldemort, wouldn't that mean Voldemort would want him alive, but subdued, perhaps under the effects of some kind of potion, like the Draught of Living Death, which didn't kill the drinker, but put them in eternal sleep?

So that meant Voldemort didn't know. He didn't know that Harry himself was the seventh Horcrux, and he was unintentionally going to kill off one of his seven protections, though he only knew about the other six ...

But would Harry actually have to die to end Voldemort's reign? Could Harry actually put himself through that? Sacrifice himself, just so he could help rid the world he hated of Voldemort's evil rule? Kill himself off, just so another Dark wizard could be vanquished?

No. There had to be another way, and Harry was going to do all he could to find it.

'So what now?' Ginny asked, bringing him out of his endless reverie, and Harry jolted back into the present.

'Now we find and destroy the Horcruxes,' said Harry, 'and find a way to get this piece of him out of my body. And we have to do it without him finding out. If he catches on to the fact that I'm one of his Horcruxes, he won't kill me, he'll make me a permanent prisoner, using methods to make sure I never escape. I'm not going to live that kind of life, being stuck in limbo forever. I'm going to rid myself of this nuisance, and I'm going to destroy anything and anyone that gets in my way. This battle has become personal.'

At that moment, he heard his name being called.

'Potter, it's Snape. Respond.'

He knew it was the two-way mirror, and he ran into the other room to grab it, bringing it back in with him. Sitting at the table, he and Ginny stared into it at Severus Snape's greasy black-haired head.

'Potter here, Snape,' Harry said in reply. 'What news do you have?'

'Lupin and I are out of the Order,' Snape said calmly, which Harry and Ginny gasped at. 'Don't blame yourself, Potter, it was bound to happen. Dumbledore knew that I was in league with you, and he decided that it was in everyone's best interests if I did not stick around, because he didn't want the chance of having a traitor in the midst of the Order. Lupin's out for the same reason.'

'Where is Lupin?' Harry asked.

'He returned to his home in Scotland,' Snape replied, 'and he and I have decided to our separate ways for the rest of the war. We work far better when we are not working together, due to an age-old dislike we hold towards one another. He has probably mentioned it to you. Anyway, Lupin said he will try to get in contact with you, but he thinks it is impossible since he has no general idea where you are, so Floo, Apparition and Portkeying are out.'

'Scotland ...' Harry suddenly remembered something. 'He's probably looking for Black.'

'Black?'

'Yeah, Sirius Black,' said Harry, rubbing his still buring scar. 'I hid him in Scotland a few years ago, and Remus is probably looking for him now. Since my ward around him only blocks enemies of Sirius, I'm sure Remus will find him, but I can't help there, there's already too much to do.'

'Meaning what?' Snape asked.

'Snape, I think I know the secret to Voldemort's immortality.'

Whatever Snape had been expecting, this was not it.

'What is it?' he hissed.

'We'd rather not say over a connection,' said Harry, and Ginny nodded. 'You'd be better off coming here, and we'll explain it to you here. We'll lower the wards enough so that you can enter. We're in number 19, Tottenham Court Road.'

Harry wandlessly summoned his wand over to him and lowered the anti-Apparition fields, and a second later, Severus Snape stood in front of them, looking around.

'A Muggle home, Potter?' he asked with a bit of irony on his voice. 'I thought you hated Muggles?'

'We couldn't go back to Gyarta's Villa, and I'm sure Dumbledore's got every other magical village tracked and locked, so that he'd know if we were there, too,' Harry explained, even as he replaced the anti-Apparition ward to ensure maximum security. 'Anyway, that's not why we called you ... I think I know the secret to his immortality, Snape.'

For the next quarter of an hour, Harry explained everything he had seen in Voldemort's mind to Snape, including his own suspicions. He expressed the fact that he did not know every location, but he knew where three of them were, and he had only vague directions on the other four. He told Snape what each and every Horcrux was, even the suspicion that he might be a Horcrux himself. Snape did not seem surprised about the snake, but showed his shock clearly with the other five objects, and looked at Harry's scar when the idea that he was a Horcrux was brought up.

'So the Dark Lord split his soul into seven, possibly eight, pieces and stored each one within something different?' Snape concluded.

'Yes, that's about right,' said Harry, nodding.

'All right,' said Snape, sinking into a chair and running both hands through his greasy hair. 'This is beginning to look impossible.'

'That basically summed up my thoughts on it,' muttered Ginny bitterly.

'It's not completely hopeless, Snape,' said Harry wearily, and he stood up and paced, unable to think while he sat. 'There's the locket, ring and diadem that we don't know the exact locations of, but we do know where the diary, cup and snake are. The diary's with the Malfoys, the cup's with the Lestranges, and the snake's with Voldemort. The snake will likely be the last Horcrux to destroy, and we can be certain that by then, Voldemort will have known about our part in the Horcruxes' destruction for a while. Meanwhile, the locket's in some cave, the ring's in some shack, and the diadem's in Hogwarts. In all three cases, they could be anywhere, because if I'm right in thinking, Hogwarts is enormous.'

Snape opened his mouth to reply, but it was drowned out by a loud cracking, which seemed to echo from everywhere. At the same time, the lights flashed on and off,

Harry's head shot up, as though he had expected it.

'We have to disappear,' he whispered. 'The wards are falling, and there's only two with that kind of power. We don't want to face either of them, not right now!'

The wards shimmered from outside the window, fading fast, and now Harry saw who was outside, a wand clutched in a heavily blackened, charred hand, and a look of purest determination in the wizened face of the man. Harry's mind changed at once.

'Ginny, Severus, get going, now!' Harry said quietl but urgently. 'Dumbledore's found us again! I don't know how he keeps finding us, but he did. I'll meet you in Godric's Hollow, by my parents' gravestones. Go, go!'

'But what about you?' Ginny hissed, grabbing Harry's arm. 'You're in no condition to face him, Harry, even if he is dying. You can barely see through the pain of your scar!'

'I don't care this time,' said Harry angrily, wrenching his arm from Ginny's grip. 'He's made it personal, Gin. He won't stop until I'm back under his watchful eye, and I'm NEVER going to help him, let alone work for him! If he wants to die this badly, he's going to!'

He broke off, staring at the wand on the table.

'That's his old wand. Let me have it.'

'Why?'

'I'm going to beat him this time with it.'

Ginny sighed. There was nothing else she could do. Harry would fight this battle whether she wanted him to or not.

'All right, Harry.' There were no words telling him not to go, or to just listen and follow them. She gave him a brief kiss, said, 'Come back to me,' and walked over to Snape. They nodded in unison and Disapparated, the wards against Apparition having fallen now.

Harry sighed and raised his own wand upwards, pointing it at the ceiling.

* * *

The wards were straining badly. As he swished and twirled his second wand, his first having been stolen by Ginny Weasley, the charred figure of Albus Dumbledore continued to fight against the barriers blocking his one and only way to his goal, which was currently cooped up within the Muggle home that the barriers were barricading.

Dumbledore had nothing but purest determination in his mind as he fought against the wards, having been humiliated by a child who was well over a century younger than him. He would not stand for it. He was a leader in this war, and he would not be made a fool of by an eighteen-year-old renegade. It was intolerable, as well as insufferable.

What Dumbledore had been expecting, however, was a long drawn out battle to break down the shields. He had been expecting to have to exert his magic as much as he could to get to the boy. He had expected, with brutish belief, to nearly kill himself to get into the Muggle house, and to use up a great deal of his magic.

Whatever he had been expecting had been denied as he watched the entire top of the house explode, debris falling everywhere, as the shields surrounding the home solidified and shattered, its shards hanging and shining in midair.

Dumbledore stared through the shattered magic, seeing a lone figure standing in a shattered doorway which could easily have allowed even someone the size of Rubeus Hagrid, and saw the person he had been looking for: Harry Potter ...

'I'm here, Albus,' Harry sneered into the darkness, jumping through the swirling magic to land gracefully in front of Dumbledore, who raised his wand. 'Can I help you with something?'

'Amusing, Harry,' Dumbledore replied sardonically, and Harry now had a good view of Dumbledore's face up close. He nearly fell backwards in shock and fright.

The curse Harry had put on him had changed his outward appearance completely. Dumbledore's hair and beard were a smokey gray color, almost like gravel, and his face had faint scars and welts in it. One of his eyes was completely white, as though he were blind in it, while the other had lost its complete twinkle, though Harry thought he would be scared shitless if he were to see it there anymore. Both of Dumbledore's hands were blackened, and his body, though still tall and thin as before, appeared to emit a powerful aura, as though magic had been released within him. His robes were a plain black color, but Harry could tell that he had scars and welts on his body beneath them.

_Amazing how one spell can completely change a person,_ Harry thought to himself.

'See what you've done to me, Mr Potter?' Dumbledore spat, no trace of good grace or even his grandfatherly figure left in him. He appeared to be running purely on rage. 'See what your curse has left me with? I can feel the goodness within me draining away, Harry, leaving me with nothing but my inner darkness, and oh-ho, you would be shocked to learn how much I have in there.'

Whoever this was, Harry had a hard time believing it was really Albus Dumbledore speaking to him.

'You're quite rude compared to the Dumbledore I know and loathe,' snapped Harry, looking into Dumbledore's face and wishing he didn't have to.

'All thanks to you, Potter,' hissed Dumbledore. 'Your curse changed me inside and out. I have nothing left within, but there is one thing you managed to help me with. My magic is flowing freely now. I feel stronger than I have in years.'

'Who cares?' Harry barked. 'You don't have a long time left to live anyway!'

'A minor price to pay,' Dumbledore said calmly, and he raised his wand. 'You're coming with me, Mr Potter. I daresay you've poisoned this world with your evil enough. We don't need two Dark Lords running around, and at this moment, you're little more than a second Tom Riddle.'

'Funny, I see you as a grandfather to Voldemort,' Harry shot back. 'You made him who he is, didn't you, by taking him to Hogwarts and letting him do what he wanted? You didn't try to stop him from doing what he did, until it was too late. You're nothing, Dumbledore, and certainly no better than the same Dark Lord who murdered my family.'

'SHUT UP!' screamed Dumbledore, and the Stunning Spell had left his wand faster than lightning, but Harry deflected it with a non-verbal Shield Charm, letting it fly over his shoulder and into the window frame, which exploded. 'I AM THE LEADER OF THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX! HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF WRONGDOING?'

'Did you actually care when I vanished, Dumbledore?' Harry asked, infuriating Dumbledore further with his eerily calm tone. 'Did you actually give a damn that I might be in a cold side area of London, unarmed and alone, even possibly dying? I don't think you did. It's easy to say you did; I expect the Minister for Magic could make up that kind of story.'

Dumbledore had no more words to say. Spell after spell flew from his wand, and Harry was deflecting them all, the stolen wand clutched tightly in his hand. He knew what he was going to do with it, but all he had to do was wait. It was only a matter of time.

'Enough of this! _Protego maxima_!' Harry shouted, and a large shield erupted from his wand, slamming down between he and Dumbledore, whose spells were now shattering helplessly against the shield's walls.

'Your shield won't hold forever, Mr Potter,' snarled Dumbledore, pushing his wand tip into the shield and trying to absorb it into his wand. This was a mistake he would soon learn never to make again.

The shield emitted an enormous electric shock, though the electricity was magical, and shot past Dumbledore's wand and to another target: Dumbledore himself. He screamed as the magic pulsed into him, like an agonizingly long Cruciatus Curse, until he pulled his wand away from it and fell to his knees, coughing and sweating like crazy.

'Big mistake, Dumbledore,' Harry whispered triumphantly.

But his triumph was short-lived, ended immediately; something had stirred within Harry's mind as he watched the old man struggling to move, and he, too, grasped himself in pain, though it was not his body: as he grabbed his forehead, his scar burned, shining with white light associated with powerful heat.

The flash ceased almost instantly, but the pain lingered. Harry lowered his hand to see Dumbledore on his knees now, still looking for his breath.

Feeling compelled by something he did not even recognize, he kneeled down next to Dumbledore and stared at him, forcing himself to explain what he knew Dumbledore must understand if he was to ever realize why Harry hated him so much. Harry had thought that Dumbledore must know these reasons anyway, but if he really didn't, knowing would change things ... or so he hoped, anyway. He was not putting anything past Dumbledore; he knew the old man was capable of despicable things, just like Ginny's family had been, and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix ...

'Let me explain to you, old man, everything I've been through in my life,' hissed Harry. 'A brief summary on my life, and why I've done what I have done, and how I survived, how I was able to match Death Eaters in strength at a young age ...'

Dumbledore stared at him, his eyes on level with Harry's, and nodded, surprised that he had gotten Harry to open up, but not ruining the chance with words. Harry began, bursting into speech.

'See, when I first ran away, I could have cared less if you never found me. I didn't run away just so I could be relocated and stuck back with that scum I was forced to call "uncle". I ran away because I was loathed by him, and I loathed him, and he treated me like dirt, and punished me for no reason, locking me up just for what I was: a freak. I was a child, barely in Muggle grade school at the time; I couldn't do a thing about it. After I ran away, I hid in London. I found the Leaky Cauldron, thinking at the time that nobody would think to look in a run-down old bar like that, because at the time I didn't know what it was. I watched a strange man walking through it out to the back area, and watched as he pulled out what I know now to be a wand and tap the brick that opens the gateway. I learned about magic that day, and why I was able to do what I did. A while later, I took a wand from another, and I used it until I went to Ollivander's at the age of ten and stole my own wand, using it to Obliviate the memory from Ollivander. It was only by coincidence that it was the very wand that was right for me.'

He stared at Dumbledore, allowing the old man a few seconds to take in his words, but Dumbledore said nothing, nodding at him to continue.

'When I was eight years old, I met Ginny. She had been kidnapped by a pair of Muggle thugs, trussed up and helpless, effectively at their mercy. I took one look at her bound form and was thrown back in time to memories I had been trying to destroy, of my uncle throwing me in the cupboard under the stairs, strapping my arms to the ceiling in there, and leaving me to cry and shout out for days on end without food or even water. The only reason I got any sort of nutrition – a glass of water and a slice of bread – at any time of day was to keep up appearances to the outside world. Anyway, when I saw her, I lost control. I don't know what I did to them, but my magic flowed through me and I knocked the bigger Muggle across the alley, rendering him either unconscious or dead, I couldn't tell. The other man shot at me with a Muggle handgun, and the bullets stopped in front of me. I crushed them into powder and blasted the other man backwards the same way. For the first time, I felt indestructable, whether or not I could control it. I picked Ginny up and ran from the spot, fearing that they would awaken and fight back, possibly even kill her to enrage me further. After I had taken those horrible straps off of her, she hugged me and clung to me for dear life, and for the first time, I was confused, and unsure of myself.

'We were inseperable from that day on; we only had each other, and nothing else. She stole a wand from Ollivander's as well, but I got it for her. She somehow got its allegiance. For months and months, we wandered around London, looking for her family. I had thought it was too good to be true, that she would be found and I would be alone again. Well, to my happiness and my displeasure, I was wrong. About a year after I had met her, we ran into her father.'

'You met Arthur?' Dumbledore asked, surprised now, but seeing a gaping hole in the story, and wondering how Harry did not see it himself.

'Yes,' said Harry tonelessly, not even knowing anymore why he was telling Dumbledore all of this, 'we met Arthur Weasley. It was in an alleyway off of Diagon Alley. I must have been nine or so years old at the time, long escaped from the Dursleys. Ginny was eight. We met her father in the alleyway, and he saw Ginny, and I don't think either of us will ever forget what followed ...'

_(Flashback)_

_'Where are we?' Ginny asked in a chattery voice, shivering in the bitter cold of late autumn._

_'I think we're near Gringotts,' replied an equally cold Harry, putting an arm around her in attempt to warm her up a little. It semi-worked: she still shivered, but not as much as before. She smiled slightly through her frost-covered red hair._

_'Thanks, Harry,' she said._

_'No problem,' Harry said, 'but we should hide, there's someone coming and I don't want to have to face another insult about being on the street tonight.'_

_Ginny looked over and saw another man, who had not yet seen them, walking in their direction. He, like Ginny, had flaming red hair, though shorter and with a bald patch right in the middle._

_'Ginny,' Harry said in a low gasp, 'isn't that a Weasley, too?'_

_She did not answer: she was staring at him as though she could not believe his eyes._

_'Daddy ...' she whispered._

_She shook off Harry's arm, to his confusion._

_'DADDY!' Ginny shrieked, running towards her father. 'DADDY, IT'S ME, IT'S GINNY! I FINALLY FOUND YOU!'_

_The man had stopped in his tracks. His hazel eyes stared through the darkness of the evening, taking in the girl running towards him. He did not bend down, nor did he reply. He merely stood there, watching Ginny._

_The little girl reached the man and flung her arms around him, sobbing into his leg. Mr Weasley did not look at her, but stared at Harry now, who found this strange ... it had been a year since the man had seen his daughter; could he not spare her even a single glance? Was she treated at home like he was? But then, if she was, she would not have been keen to return ..._

_'Daddy? What's wrong?' Ginny looked scared now. 'Why won't you look at me?'_

_Mr Weasley finally looked down at Ginny, his eyes blazing with unhidden anger._

_'You're still alive?' he finally hissed._

_Ginny looked horror-struck._

_'Daddy? Dad, wha–?'_

_'Why are you still around here?' Mr Weasley snarled, and he pulled his leg from Ginny's grasp. 'How is it that you are still walking and in good health after a full year? Why aren't you dead on the side of some road or alleyway like the sack of dung you are? We didn't miss you. Your mother was thrilled. Your brothers were ecstatic.'_

_Harry's blood was thundering in his ears as he watched the man, Ginny's father, laying into Ginny the same way Vernon Dursley had laid into him. Ginny had fallen to her knees, staring at her father, who laughed at her fallen form._

_'Save your tears, brat! We were glad that you had gone, run away somewhere, never to be seen again! We were glad to know that you were no longer a burden to our family. Your brothers laughed and cheered and partied for weeks.'_

_Ginny was crying so loudly that had there been people around watching, they would be staring at the scene. Harry, however, had begun to walk toward the red-haired man, his fingers twitching and then curling into a fist. He was going to make the horrible man pay for this, even if he didn't have a wand like Mr Weasley did._

_The man continued, oblivious to Harry's approach._

_'You are no daughter of mine, Ginevra! You are no Weasley under my roof, and nor are you one under my eyes! You were the spoiled one, the pampered one, always getting affection from your mother – which, by the way, was completely fake – YEOWCH!'_

_Mr Weasley stumbled backwards as Harry raised his fist and ran it into his solar plexus, and roared in pain, clutching his stomach. Harry raised his fist again and slammed it into Mr Weasley's arm, bruising it badly. He then kneeled beside Ginny, taking her hand._

_'Come on, Ginny,' he said quietly, his eyes still staring in disgust and loathing at the screaming man before him. 'We don't need this.'_

_Ginny, who was still in no fit state to talk, merely nodded, allowing Harry to pull her up and bring her with him. They walked away, Harry keeping one arm around Ginny's shoulders and crooning words to comfort her, even as the howling man yelled from behind them, 'Good riddance, kid! She's your problem now!' He ignored Arthur Weasley, merely speeding up his steps as tbey walked from the scene, Ginny sobbing into Harry's shoulder and Harry vowing to one day make the man, and his family, pay for what they'd done ..._

_(End Flashback)_

Harry stared up at Dumbledore, who had listened to his recounting with horror in his disfigured face, and continued.

'After that evening, Ginny cried her heart out for weeks and weeks. Anyone in her place would have; she had been moreorless disinherited from the Weasley family, and at the age of eight. We continued to live on the streets in London for a few more months until I stole a wand from a teenage kid who looked to be about four or five years older than me. I used that wand to practice all the basics, knowing them from books I stole from others, before I mastered them months later. What I really needed at the time was _Expelliarmus_ and _Obliviate_ – that way, I could Disarm Ollivander and erase his memory of it happening in the process, and get a wand that works for me, all in one stroke. Turns out he was holding two at the time, so I discarded the stolen wand and took the two I Disarmed him of, giving one to Ginny. By pure chance, the one I used was the brother wand of Voldemort's own wand.

'A year later, an owl found me with a Hogwarts letter. I had no interest in going, for two reasons. One: I had already mastered spells of up to the fourth year level, and I was well on my way to working up to OWL level. Two: I would be back under constant surveilance of people I knew and loathed, including you. So I burned the letter and, for good measure, killed the owl with a Severing Charm. They're small creatures, they can't lose too much blood without dying soon after.

'Ginny's letter came a year later. Again, we were so skilled with magic by this point – I could even cast the Imperius curse by then – that we did not go. We were too used to living on our own to go back to people who would separate us again. We burned the letter and the owl, and continued to live in hiding.

'When I was almost fifteen years old, we entered a Muggle home and killed the people living inside it, using charms to make the home our own. We lived there for a year before leaving, keeping the home under protections that are outmatched only by the Fidelius Charm. After a year, we went to Godric's Hollow, which I had finally learned the location to through Sirius Black, who we met in Diagon Alley, under Disillusionment Charms. He did not look to be in his right mind, and I was tempted to kill him just to put him out of his clear suffering, but I did not kill him. I brought him with us, and talked him into speaking about his past: my past. I learned about Godric's Hollow, and the home my parents had been killed in. I learned about Voldemort, the Dark Lord, and his attempt to murder me backfiring on him. I learned about you, and how you were the one who sent me to my horrid relatives. My disgust for Voldemort, for you, and for the so-called _side of Light_ deepened all the further.

'When Black had told me everything he knew about my past, I helped him go into hiding. I will not say the place. We put him under the Fidelius Charm, and as far as I know, he has lived under it ever since. I went to Godric's Hollow, but I could not face my parents' graves, nor the old home. Not yet. We went to a nearby housing area, Gyarta's Villa, and lived there ever since.

'All the while, we were stealing things that we needed to survive, and also, unintentionally, helping your cause. The Philosopher's Stone, the most major of our thefts, was done because Voldemort had planned to steal it soon – I learned this from a Death Eater who had apprehended me not far from Muggle London. I killed Voldemort's follower, and proceeded to steal the stone. I heard of Nicholas Flamel's unfortunate passing not long afterwards but did not let myself dwell on it; it was bound to happen. He was sixty-seven decades old and his stone had been in danger of theft regardless. I did not want Voldemort to get his hands on the stone. I stole it myself. We still have it.

'During my travels, I met Peter Pettigrew, the man I found out had betrayed the parents I had never known to Voldemort in the first place. I found him in a Muggle area outside of Godric's Hollow. He had been sent by Lord Voldemort to spy on me. I cast a Bludgeoning Hex so powerful that it threw him halfway down the passageway. I did not kill him. I did not want to stain the village of Godric's Hollow with his worthless blood and guts. He was not worth it.

'So to conclude, I have been living on my own for twelve years, with Ginny for ten of them, and we have learned to fend for ourselves. I have the power to protect myself and her from any danger. I think I proved that when I beat you in our wizard's duel. If you still want me to come with you, you'll have to find me again, but this time, I won't make it easy. Leave us alone, Dumbledore, and I'll lose the urge to kill you eventually.'

He finished speaking, standing up at full height now, and stared down at Dumbledore, who looked an incredible mix of confused, amazed, horrified and surprisingly wrong footed.

'I don't know who you met in that street nine years ago, Harry,' he said with a now miserable expression, 'but that was not Arthur Weasley. The Arthur that I know would never have mocked and sneered at his only daughter, or any of his children. Whoever you were with that night, it wasn't Arthur.'

'LIAR!' screeched Harry, and his voice echoed over the entire neighborhood, hitting Dumbledore's ears like loud bangs. 'DON'T LIE TO ME, OLD MAN!'

'I am not lying to you, Potter,' panted Dumbledore, who seemed to be having a hard time catching his breath even now; was the curse acting faster than Harry thought? 'I have nothing to gain from lying to you about something of this caliber. But if your hatred of the Weasley family is stemmed by your encounter with the impostor Arthur Weasley, I must confront you about what you think you know, which is not true in the least.'

'Can you even prove it?' Harry hissed, 'or are you trying to trick me into going with you again, only to find myself restrained again?'

'I am not here to argue, Harry,' Dumbledore said, still breathing roughly. 'I am not lying to you. Some day you'll know this.'

'Shut up! Just as Peter Pettigrew will be ended at my hand, Ginny has laid claim on the life of her worthless father, the man who abandoned her! She'll kill him, and she'll kill her brothers! If you're very lucky, she may spare Molly Weasley, but she is not sure about that, either. They're not her family any more than you are my family, Albus Dumbledore. They have no claim on her, and she wants nothing with them!'

Dumbledore sighed, wishing he could change everything, but knowing that nothing would get through to Harry outside of concrete proof, and what good would it do in the end, anyway? Nine years of hatred of a girl's own father was not easily shattered.

'I cannot change your mind,' he said quietly, his breath still labored.

'No, you cannot!' shot Harry. 'Arthur Weasley's death is as imminent as your own, Dumbledore. And on that note, I am leaving. Farewell, oh divine "leader of Light"!' He sneered the last three words. Without another look at the old leader of the Order, Harry turned around and walked away, Disapparating after a few steps.

Dumbledore stared at the spot where Harry had vanished from, understanding for the first time why Harry and Ginny showed so much hatred for their cause, and why they would never come willingly. It was illogical, and yet it made perfect sense. Someone had either hoodwinked Arthur Weasley, with an Imperius Curse or a Confunder, or had impersonated him; either way, they had effectively forced a hatred onto the real Arthur Weasley.

It was clear that he had a lot of work ahead of him if he wanted to get through to Harry and Ginny.

* * *

Author's Note: So, there you have it. Some loose ends tied. There was a review referring to the Hallow, and for now, all I can say in response is that while the Elder Wand is confirmed as part of the story, I'm not sure about the other Hallows ... if they are involved, it will be a miniscule role for them.

So now you know why Ginny hates her family. I had originally planned on inserting that little story about their past in chapter 4, where they met Dumbledore in front of the church, but I decided not to, because the capture would not have gone off as well. It might not be the best way of writing it out, but oh well ... there's other loose ends I have yet to write into the story. I'm not finished yet, after all, though I'd say there's only about seven or eight chapters left at the absolute maximum. I'm not making this a long story. It won't be more than fourteen chapters.

Anyway, tell me what you thought of it, as always, and please, keep the criticism constructive, I'm not here to listen to pointless flaming, and I'm sure others could say similar to their own stories.


	7. Chapter 7: Ghosts From The Past

Story Name: A Life of Rebellion

Author's Note: Letters, thoughts, Parseltongue, and some other forms of writing in this story will be written in Italics. On a rare occasion, bolded writing will be used.

Summary: At the age of six, a young boy runs away from his negligent and cruel relatives. He becomes a thief, an assassin and a division in the war between Light and Dark. With a faithful companion at his side, a battle-scarred Harry Potter searches for the truth about his past.

Disclaimer: JKR owns the series as a whole, I own the fanfic-made and self-created modifications in this story in particular. I take no claim over the Harry Potter series. Any review saying otherwise will be automatically deleted.

**Chapter 7: Ghosts of the Past**

Muggle London had not fully recovered from its last assault, even after nearly a month, and yet the memory of the theft of the Philosopher's Stone was no longer fresh in everyone's mind.

The news of Nicolas Flamel's death had reached the newspapers, both Muggle and wizard – though they had omitted Flamel's age for the Muggle newspapers – and a funeral had been held already for Flamel and his wife, Perenelle, who had been seven years younger than her husband, and therefore nearly ten times older than everyone else on the planet. The Philosopher's Stone had never been found, and the only ones remotely interested in finding it were a few certain policemen within Muggle London, who only knew it to be Nicolas Flamel's prized possession, as opposed to the incredible magical object that it really was.

Whatever the police who knew about the Stone had planned, however, could not come to pass. One morning weeks after the Stone had been stolen, the four men who had been planning a secret investigation underneath the police foundation's nose had been found dead within the very same police building they worked in. None of them had even the slightest sign of damage upon them; it was as though they had dropped dead of something akin to either fright or a heart attack, leaving no mark or sign.

The only lead that anyone in the city had was a large sign in the sky, molded into the shape of a skull with a serpentine tongue.

Meanwhile, in the village of Hogsmeade, deep within Scotland, a man was currently sitting in a pub known as the Hog's Head, sipping a Butterbeer and wishing he had more leads than he currently had, which were none at all. He had been searching for a close friend of his for almost two weeks now, and he was now impatient at the lack of results he had uncovered.

Ex-Order member Remus Lupin was lost within his own thoughts, and wished he could find out more about his friend's exact location, but he knew that asking his informant was no longer possible. He had been told that it was Scotland that Sirius Black had been hidden in, but now that Lupin really thought about it, the idea that Sirius was in Hogsmeade seemed too good to be true.

Sighing, he rolled his bottle around on the bar table, ignoring the looks he got. He was used to them, after all, due to being a werewolf.

'Something wrong, Lupin?'

The barman had spoken. He was staring at Lupin through very matted hair, long and gray and dirty, with an equally long beard. He narrowed his eyes, wiping a glass with a rag that was only serving to make the glass filthier and filthier.

'No, no,' Lupin replied, waving off the barman. 'I'm fine, Aberforth.'

'You're looking for Sirius Black, aren't you?'

Lupin started.

'How did you know?' he asked, staring at Aberforth Dumbledore as though he could not believe his eyes.

'That's what pretty much the entire Order is figurin', mate,' said Aberforth gruffly, never ceasing the paradoxal cleaning of his glass, all the while staring into Lupin's eyes. 'You left as though you weren't bothered or nothing about being kicked out of my eccentric brother's organization, and we all know that there was a time when my brother was your idol and hero 'cause of what he did for you when you went to Hogwarts. We also knew that you were on friendly terms with the Potter kid. So tell me, Remus, have you found Black or even a trace of him?'

'No,' sighed Remus, rubbing his temple. 'All Harry told me was that he's in Scotland, and I figured he meant Hogsmeade, so that's where I started. There's very few wizard villages in Scotland, and I doubt he hid Sirius in a Muggle area, considering how much he hates Muggles, so ... you know, I acted on an educated guess, no pun intended.'

'Your "educated guess" was pretty damn good, then,' Aberforth said with a smirk. 'He is in Hogsmeade, hidden in plain sight.'

Lupin looked up sharply.

'What? How do you know?'

'Cause he's been in here a bunch of times, drinking up the place in whatever state of sorrow he's in,' said Aberforth dismissively. 'He pays well, though, so I don't mind, but the poor bloke's out of his tree, doesn't have a clue who I am, and I have doubts he even knows who he is. Keeps muttering stuff about Potter, and he hisses like mad about some bloke, possibly even an object, called "Wormtail".'

At the mention of Wormtail, Lupin stiffened noticeably, his expression sour.

'You know about this Wormtail bloke or thing?'

'We've met,' Lupin said coolly, willing himself to not lose his temper at Peter Pettigrew's mention. 'He's definitely a bloke, and Sirius and I have both had the, er, _pleasure_ of knowing him.' He said the word "pleasure" as though it were a curse.'

'I see,' Aberforth said, frowning slightly, but he shook his head and continued. 'Anyway, you should probably know something else. Albus had another confrontation with Potter on Tottenham Court Road the other night. It wasn't pretty, and whatever happened shook Albus. From being hell-bent on catching Potter before, Albus is now keeping his distance.'

'What?' Lupin asked incredulously. 'Why?'

'Beats me,' Aberforth said uncaringly. 'It ain't down to me to watch my dear brother's every movement, Lupin.'

There was an awful coldness in Aberforth's voice.

'Aberforth,' began Lupin hesitantly, 'why do you dislike your brother so much?'

'That's between Albus and me,' Aberforth replied shortly, 'and it's a century-year old resentment, so there's nothing to be said about it now. Let's just say that Albus and I did not share the same views about an old friend of his and leave it at that.' His features had darkened considerably, and Lupin knew that Aberforth had been less than friendly with this friend of Albus's, though he did not comment; if Aberforth did not want to talk about it, that was up to Aberforth, and Lupin wasn't going to threaten that decision.

A few minutes of silence passed before Aberforth put down the glass and the rag, which Lupin was very tempted to direct a silent cleaning charm at, before turning to face Lupin.

'The bar's going to close soon for the night,' he murmured, 'and then I want to show you something I think you want to see. Give it an hour or so.'

Lupin nodded, confusion in his eyes.

It was half past eleven, and Aberforth was just stocking an old refrigerator with bottles of Ogden's Old Firewhisky when the door to the pub opened and Albus Dumbledore walked in, his injuries shining in the light for the few people left in the pub to see. He ignored the stares and walked straight up to the bar table, his eyes darting around it, spotting Aberforth after a moment.

'Ah, Aberforth,' he said crisply, his dead eye glowing a little. 'I was wondering if I might have a word –?' He spotted Lupin. 'Oh. Good evening, Remus. Here for a drink as well?'

'Indeed,' muttered Lupin, staring out of the corner of his eye at Albus's dead eye. It was like nothing he had seen in a long, long time. It was completely white, and unless Lupin was quite mistaken, it was completely blind. The rest of his face was covered in deep welts and long, red scars ... what had happened to cause such disfiguration to the elderly man? Was it truly the curse that Harry had used on him that was tearing him apart inside and out? Lupin shuddered; he could not imagine that kind of slow torture.

'Yes, the injuries I have sustained are painful,' muttered Albus, and Lupin was surprised to hear Albus's voice so calm and collected; he had been half expecting Albus to snap at him after dismissing him from the Order. 'Nevertheless, I am as healthy as I can hope myself to be at the present time.'

'That's good to hear, Albus,' said Lupin in what he hoped was a calm voice, though he was curious now. 'I was wondering about something, though.'

He waited, perhaps unsure of whether Albus would dismiss whatever he had to say, but Albus sat down on a bar stool, waved a hand and said, 'Fire away, Remus.'

'Albus,' Lupin asked worriedly, 'is it true that the curse is splitting your personality?'

'What makes you say that?' Albus sounded a little weary, as though he had not slept in a long time, and Lupin knew that he was growing sick of hearing questions concerning his new condition, even with his infinite patience.

'Well, from what I do know about your meeting with young Harry, it sounded as though you were anything but calm and collected when you spoke with him. It sounded almost as though you were ... forgive me, Albus ... Dark in mind.'

To his great surprise, Albus chuckled.

'I realize now that I may have sounded more like Lord Voldemort than myself when I spoke to Mr Potter that night,' he said in a dry tone. 'Let us just say that the aftermath of the placement of his curse was affecting my mind, and at the moment, I am recovering from that obstacle, but I still have a ways to go. Mr Potter's curse was not a minor curse; it did more than put a measurement of months on my life, Remus. It affected my mind as well.'

Lupin nodded, thinking privately that Albus's explanation did not make a lot of sense, but since he himself did not have a better one, he may as well go with it.

'Who's there?' said a gruff voice, and Aberforth stood up, having just finished packing in the bottles of Firewhisky. 'Oh, it's Albus. What do you want?' His tone did not sound inviting.

'I was wondering if I could have a private word, Aberforth,' Albus replied matter-of-factly, as though he expected Aberforth to honor the request without argument.

Something in Aberforth's gaze darkened.

'I can't right now,' he grunted. 'I'm busy with the pub.'

Lupin's eyebrows rose at this – after all, Aberforth had been fine with talking to him for the last hour or so.

'Yes, you do appear to be quite occupied with the running of the Hog's Head, my brother,' said Albus airily, looking around at the nearly empty pub, 'but I am afraid this cannot wait. It is urgent, and I must insist that you give it the attention I need you to give it.'

Aberforth threw down the rag he had just picked up with such force Lupin was surprised the table did not crack.

'I said no, Albus,' he hissed, clearly impatient. 'I have a business to run, and I don't have time for interventions whenever you feel you need to have them. Some other time, maybe, but not right now.' He looked angry, far angrier than the situation called for.

'But Aberforth, dear brother –'

'Don't "dear brother" me, Albus!' snapped Aberforth.

'Aberforth –'

'I told you I'm busy,' he snarled, losing all patience on the spot, 'which means I'm busy and I have no time to be bothered! Now if you're not going to buy something from me, get out of my pub!' The look on his face was murderous, and people around the pub were alarmed at the sight of the old barman glaring daggers at Albus Dumbledore, though Lupin did not look surprised, and, shockingly, neither did Albus.

'Aberforth, you surely don't still hate me, do you?' he asked. His voice was calm enough, but Lupin could tell that Albus was hurt by Aberforth's outbreak.

'I don't hate you, no,' Aberforth said coldly, his expression betraying his words, 'but that doesn't mean I want to be in the same room as you, discussing things that, though important to you, mean nothing to me whenever you please!' His eyes narrowed further, and his spectacles momentarily shined brightly in the light. 'I will come to you with Order business, and that is that, no personal business included! I might not hate you, but I have not forgiven you for what you did all those years ago!'

Whatever Aberforth was accusing Albus of having done back then, its reminder clearly stung him now. Albus stepped back by approximately one foot, and his one good eye was open wide, almost misted over.

'Whatever you think I did, Aberforth,' Albus said in a broken voice, 'is something that, as I've said many times, I doubt Ariana would have wanted you to hold it against me for the rest of your life.'

'Don't you dare speak about her to me, Albus!' roared Aberforth, his eyes darting to the people sitting in different areas of the pub, all of whom were watching the confrontation they now saw as impossible to ignore. Some left quickly, not wanting to see this. 'That's not their concern, and they can all hear us! Get out of here and never speak of it again!'

'No,' said Albus firmly. 'This is something that we have avoided for too long, Aberforth. I am more than likely going to die within the coming year, and I have no intention of leaving the matter untouched before I do.'

'I have no interest in discussing anything with you, Albus, least of all this, whether you're dying or not.'

'I am sorry, Aberforth, but we must. Let us go to another room in private and discuss this, away from prying ears. You have been avoiding the entire issue for far too long.'

'I've been avoiding nothing, Albus!' In his rage, Aberforth forgot himself. 'I just don't want to talk to – or be alone with – the man, who helped, whether directly or not, to kill off my sister!'

The entire pub, which had erupted into whispers not long after the argument had started, suddenly fell silent as though it had been hit by a wide-radius Silencing Charm. The effect was incredible, and yet it was terrible: Lupin had shattered his bottle in his grip, which had steadily become tighter; various customers were staring openly, their gazes darting between the two brothers; Aberforth was looking at Albus as though he were scum; and Albus stared back, his one good eye completely misted over. With an enormous effort, he willed himself not to succumb to tears, for he needed to appear strong for the public, however he felt otherwise.

'I do not deny that I was foolish, that I should have made better decisions there,' Albus murmured, and he looked broken, lost, as though he were suddenly a child crying out for his mother. 'I do not deny that I should have seen Gellert for the Dark and disturbed man that he was, however brilliant he might have been on the whole. But hear this, Aberforth: I do not think that Ariana Dumbledore would have wanted you to live a life of anger, of bitterness or of dislike, especially against your only remaining family.'

Lupin's eyebrows contracted, and his eyes flitted from Albus to Aberforth, who looked livid. None of this made sense to him. Ariana Dumbledore ... the two brothers had once had a sister? And who on earth was Gellert? Were Ariana and this Gellert fellow the reason, or part of the reason, for Aberforth's strong dislike for his older brother? Lupin's eyes widened a little in confusion as he looked from one Dumbledore to the other. What was going on?

Whatever the case, Aberforth did not calm down at these words: his rage intensified all the more.

'Get out of my pub, Albus!' shouted Aberforth furiously, his eyes dancing with fire twinkling with his piercing blue gaze. 'It's not down to you to decide what our sister would or wouldn't want, and I have nothing more to say to you tonight!'

Albus nodded sadly.

'As you wish, Aberforth,' he said dejectedly, looking a dozen times older than he usually looked. 'I shall see you at our next Order meeting, which is in five days from now.'

'I look forward to it,' spat Aberforth with venom in his voice, and Albus gave one last sigh and left the pub, which was now empty, the customers having fled at Aberforth's last shout for Albus to leave. He pointed his wand at the door, which locked instantly, and then at the sign, which flipped around, reading '_Closed._'

'Right, then,' Aberforth grunted, keeping his gaze firmly away from Lupin's, 'sorry you had to see that. Just put it out of your head, Lupin.'

Lupin didn't quite know if he would be able to do so even if he wanted to, but he wisely did not comment.

'Now,' continued Aberforth, 'I wanted to show you something – or should I say, someone.' He indicated a door on his own side of the bar table. 'Come upstairs. You won't be disappointed. Shocked, yes, but not disappointed.'

Lupin nodded, wondering what Aberforth could be talking about. As they ascended the staircase behind the door, he wondered who Aberforth could possibly have found that Lupin would want to talk to. Unless –

But that was impossible! Harry had hidden the man himself!

Aberforth reached the landing first, where a door was closed and a glowing light was pouring out through the crack between floor and door. He stopped on top of the landing and looked at Lupin, who gazed up at him curiously, wondering what was about to happen.

'I must ask you not to fall backwards out of shock,' he said with a small, sad smile. 'I don't want St Mungo's involved.'

At this, Lupin's eyes widened, and any doubts of his previous thoughts vanished completely.

Aberforth threw the door open and led Lupin into the room, which was a large sitting room with a fireplace and a bed. Sitting on the bed, his head in his hands and his long hair covering his face, was Sirius Black, Lupin's only remaining best friend from Hogwarts.

'Merlin's beard!' Lupin all but shouted, staggering forward at the man. 'What happened to you?'

Sirius looked terrible. His face was gaunt and his eyes were sunken, and there were several old, half-healed cuts and bruises covering his cheeks and forehead. His hair reached his forearms and, though clean, seemed to give off a rugged look, as though it were uncared for. His robes weren't rags, but they weren't in good condition. It was as though he had only just recently left Azkaban as opposed to being set free several years before. He did not react in the slightest to Lupin's outburst, and Aberforth shook his head sadly.

'Poor bloke's gone to seed,' Aberforth explained gruffly, staring at Sirius with pity in his gaze. 'Doesn't show signs of recognition of anything except in small bursts. He's getting better, but there's only short periods where he'll show signs of recovery, and then he'll forget everything again. His memories of the last twelve years are especially affected, but he should remember you. It's his short-term memory mostly.'

Lupin was only half listening, his gaze never leaving Sirius's form, which remained still; he continued staring into his hands, not showing any sign of knowing that there were two men in the room with him.

'I don't know what it is, but whatever it is, it's something to do with his misery,' Aberforth continued. 'He's mad with grief. When he does leave that house he stays in, which is apparently protected by Fidelius because I never found it, he wanders here, sometimes to talk, sometimes to drown himself in Firewhisky.' He broke off, staring sadly at Sirius. 'I remember when he was a teenager, and when he used to come into the pub with you and Potter and that Pettigrew bloke. He was so happy and carefree then. Now ... it's like looking at a soulless shell.'

Lupin couldn't help but agree, reluctant as he was to. He continued to gaze at Sirius.

'You can speak to him if you want. He talks fine; he just sometimes doesn't know who he's talking to.'

Aberforth walked back towards the door, leaning against it, his own gaze fixed on the picture above the fireplace of a young girl of about fifteen, who was watching the scene before her with innocent curiosity. Lupin took a deep breath and walked over to Sirius, hesitantly putting a hand on his shoulder.

'Er – Sirius?'

The man's head jolted up, looking sharply around.

'What? Who's there? How do you know my name? Aberforth? Aberforth, why am I hearing voices?' Sirius seemed to be pleading. His eyes found Lupin, and he gasped, his gaze becoming watery. 'M-Moony? Is that you?'

Lupin hesitated, his worry for his friend evident, and then nodded.

'It's me, Sirius. It's Remus. It's ... it's Moony.'

Sirius gasped again, almost choking on an unknown thing, and then jumped up and threw himself onto Lupin, sobbing into his shoulder.

'Sirius – Sirius, what's wrong? Why are you so depressed?' Lupin was almost begging for an answer; he could not bear to see his best friend in this sort of state. It was like seeing a human-bodied Dementor, without the chilling effects. 'Sirius, what happened to you? We got you out of Azkaban prison and you fled without telling us where you were going. Why did you run away?' He couldn't keep a trace of hurt out of his voice, but he spoke out of concern, worry and despair.

Sirius took a few minutes to reply.

'Remus, I – I –'

Tears ran down Sirius's face.

'Remus, I haven't heard from him. From H-Harry. I think something might have happened to him ... I think he might have been found, Remus.'

Lupin looked confused.

'Harry's fine, Sirius. He's with Ginny. They're on the run again.'

'How is that fine?' Sirius roared, tears flowing like rivers down his cheeks, and Lupin stepped back away from Sirius in shock. 'He's only a teenager, for Merlin's sake! He shouldn't have to live his life this way! He should have been happy, lived a carefree life, like Lily and J-James ...' Sirius broke off, collapsing into more tears; he looked utterly broken.

'Like I said, he's mad with grief,' said Aberforth quietly. 'His lapses are completely unpredictable. Sometimes he remembers everything and sometimes he doesn't. He must remember everything with you here – you're more familiar to him.'

Sighing, Lupin knelt next to Sirius, placing a hand on his shoulder.

'Listen to me, Sirius.'

Sirius did not stop crying, but he raised his head slightly, and Lupin took it to mean that he was listening, if not just barely. He decided to continue anyway, knowing full well that if Sirius was listening, he'd loathe what Remus was about to say.

'Sirius, Harry is fine. He – he's in contact with Severus.'

He regretted the bluntness of his words the second they left his lips. Sirius looked up, shock and hatred coursing through his lined face.

'_Snivellus_? That greasy Death Eater is chums with my godson?'

'Yes, Sirius. He seems to have taken a liking to James and Lily's son, despite his hatred of anything Potter.' Lupin hesitated. 'There's something deep here, Sirius. Severus would not have left Dumbledore's side without reason, Sirius, I know that.'

Sirius did not seem to be registering a single word that Lupin had said, nor did the scowl that he wore on his face loosen at all.

'I will not let Harry be associated with that scumbag!'

To Lupin's surprise, Aberforth responded first.

'You don't have much of a choice, Black.' He spoke with a firm tone, and he had his wand in his hand, though it was held loosely at his side. Sirius's eyes snapped over to him, burning fiercely. He faltered only slightly under Aberforth's stern glare. 'Potter clearly trusts Snape, who has put aside his grudge to help him. Can you not do the same?'

'No, I can not!' Sirius all but snarled. 'He was our sworn enemy! He tried to get me expelled from Hogwarts innumerable times!'

'And you tried to get him killed,' Lupin said quietly.

'That's different! He had what was coming to him! I never told him to go looking into the Willow, I just told him that it'd be interesting if he did! It's not my fault he's a moron and went to see anyway!' It was clear that at that moment, Sirius's memory was fine.

'Nevertheless, you nearly got him killed, Sirius,' said Lupin irritably, 'and even after that, he's helping your godson, your best friend's son. Can't you show an iota of gratitude?'

Sirius understood Lupin this time; he whirled around and stared at Lupin with an intensity that could have put a Basilisk to shame.

'You don't know what I saw when I met him, Remus!' It was as though someone else was talking through his mouth. 'He couldn't have been older than fourteen or fifteen, and he found me, and I could see in his eyes that he was what everyone was afraid of: Dark, maybe even evil! And that girl that was with him, that Weasley girl, she had the same look as he did! Years and years of running from the world have changed them, Remus! If he's lucky, Harry can change for the better, but how the hell could that happen with someone like dear _Severus_ partnering up with him? Tell me, Remus, HOW?'

Lupin did not draw back from Sirius as he raged; on the contrary, he stepped forward and grabbed both of Sirius's shoulders, shaking him back to his senses.

'Severus never betrayed us, Sirius,' he said firmly and loud enough for Sirius to stop ranting and hear him. Sirius became still, surprised, and stared at Lupin, who was not finished. 'Severus was working with Albus as a form of paying off his debt to the man, because when Albus brought Severus back from Voldemort's clutches, Severus took it to mean that Albus saved him, even if he is wrong. He worked with Albus, unwavering and unquestioning, to repay the man, and stuck by him for all those years because of it. He may not admit it to himself, but that's what I, as a human with enhanced senses, see in him, and all the Occlumency in the world won't block that.' He shook his head slightly, his graying brown hair swishing a bit on top of his head. 'Severus is working with Harry because James saved his life. Severus has to save Harry's life as well, or at least protect him, in order to pay off that debt. He has no loyalty to Voldemort, Sirius. He's as much a wildcard in this war as Harry and Ginevra are.'

Sirius looked unconvinced, perhaps because of slight madness, but Lupin gave him a look so piercing that he said nothing about it.

'You don't have to forgive him, Sirius. Hell, I won't work with him after everything we've been through between him and James and Peter. But I also know that deep down, he feels that he has to protect and help Harry Potter, and it isn't in our right to stop him.'

Sirius looked at Lupin long and hard, unblinking and probably unseeing, and finally nodded.

'Fine,' he rasped, sounding as though the words maimed him. 'Fine, I'll accept it. I don't want to work with Snivellus, though.'

'I'm not asking you to, old friend,' said Lupin in a relieved tone, and Sirius nodded, looking relieved as well. 'Come on, let's get you home.'

'No,' said Aberforth Dumbledore, who stepped in front of the door, his grip tightening on his wand. 'He's safer here. Potter's protection means that he can leave when he wants to, which isn't good. Clearly, the protection is weakening. Leave Black with me, Lupin. He'll be fine here. I have a secret room that can hide him from whoever he's hiding from.'

'Really?' said Lupin, interested by this as he looked around the small room. 'Where?'

Aberforth nodded at a portrait of a young girl hanging over the fireplace, who had been watching the entire scene with a mystified expression on her face. She caught Aberforth's eye and beamed, and suddenly her portrait swung forward, revealing a passage behind it. A closer look revealed a door a short way into the passage.

'Black's in no condition to fight or go anywhere right now,' said Aberforth calmly, 'so he can stay in that room. He'll be safe from the rest of the world.'

'That sounds good,' Lupin replied. He faced his friend again. 'You're safe here, Sirius. I will be back in a few days to see you. I have some business of my own to finish.'

Sirius nodded, not really looking at anything, simply staring.

'Take care of him, Aberforth,' said Lupin. He did not turn around to see Aberforth's nod, but walked out of the room and into the pub. He did not slow down to see the wizened old man stare at him through the window as he Disapparated.

* * *

Six hundred miles from Hogsmeade, in a Muggle villa in southern Britain, Harry Potter had sunk into a chair, massaging his forehead.

'That was the most infuriating experience I've had in a while,' he whispered to himself.

Dumbledore had pushed his patience to breaking levels with that meeting. Harry had faced down the old man, who had been driven to near insanity by the life-sapping spell that he had put him under, and said too much, plain and simple. Had he continued, the old man would know almost all the key parts to his past, and that was something that Harry feared. He knew only too well that Dumbledore was a man who was capable of manipulating a person completely. He didn't need the Imperius curse to do that.

In his anger and his determination to make Dumbledore understand his hatred for the old man, Harry had explained far too much. He had explained how he had fended for himself for two years, how he had found Ginny, how they had together found her scumbag of a father, and how they had vowed to never side with the self-proclaimed righteous side of the war after seeing so. As Harry would never willingly go to Voldemort after what the Dark Lord had done to his family, Harry had kept himself distanced from the world. He did not trust anyone but Ginny. He had bits of trust in Severus Snape and Remus Lupin, but he was not going to let himself get too close to them. Not until both Albus Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort were out of the way.

Harry did not plan on waiting for his curse to finish off Dumbledore. He was going to finish Dumbledore off himself the next time they met. He simply wanted Dumbledore to suffer first, to give him a taste of what Harry had felt for the first five years of his life.

As for Voldemort, Harry knew that he would never be able to touch him until he found the Horcruxes and destroyed them. To do that, he had to figure out where all of them were. So far he knew what they all were, but had no clues as to every location. He would hunt down each one and destroy them, and then he would figure out how to erase the piece of soul within his own scar.

Until then, Harry would hunt down the two Horcruxes he knew the locations to that he could currently reach, as the snake was untouchable until Voldemort moved into the open. He would find and destroy the Horcruxes guarded by the Malfoys and the Lestranges, and if they tried to stop him, he would kill them. Twelve years on the run had toughened him, and twelve years of using magic to guide him had made him a powerful wizard. He didn't have a clue as to how else he was as strong as he was.

He thought about his confrontation with Dumbledore on Tottenham Court Road, and of Dumbledore's parting words.

"_The Arthur that I know would never have mocked and sneered at his only daughter, or any of his children."_

It was an obvious lie to bring himself and Ginny back into the Order's grasp, but for reasons that made little sense to Harry, Dumbledore had sounded oddly sincere in his words. _Manipulating old bastard,_ he thought angrily. _Probably knows how to turn his grandfatherly voice on and off at will._

He put it out of his mind, unwilling to consider the possibility that he was wrong about Dumbledore or the Weasleys. He would not let himself show weakness in front of Dumbledore, even if the old man was dying. Dumbledore had, after all, claimed that his magic was flowing freely now, which implied that he had either been restricted or simply been holding back beforehand.

He looked up at the clock blaring in the Muggle home. It plainly read four o'clock in the morning. He had been sitting with nothing but his thoughts for hours now.

'You're not still up, are you?'

He looked over at Ginny, who was walking into the kitchen toward him. She sat down in the chair beside him and merely watched him, her brown eyes slightly narrowed. It was clear that she wanted to know why he was up so early in the morning – or so late into the night.

'Where is Snape?' Harry asked wearily.

Ginny chortled a little. 'Severus left almost four hours ago, Harry.'

Harry chuckled weakly.

'Have I been up that long?'

Ginny did not answer. It sounded much too much like a rhetorical question. She continued to look at him until she could remain quiet no longer.

'What's wrong with you?' she finally asked a few minutes later. Harry looked back at her, confusion in his gaze. 'Why are you awake? Is it Voldemort? Has he entered your mind again, and that's why you're not able to sleep? What, Harry, what is it?'

Harry looked at her, his eyes void of any emotion.

'This is important,' he said firmly, 'so pay attention.'

He looked down, staring at his hands, which he closed and opened repeatedly, as though attempting to cleanse them of the warmth they had succumbed to. He sighed and curled them into fists in his lap.

'I can't shake the feeling that Dumbledore wasn't fully lying to us tonight,' he said finally.

'Fully lying about what?' Ginny asked, her chocolate brown eyes narrowed.

'About your father,' Harry responded.

There was a long pause.

'You told Dumbledore about what happened with my father?' Ginny asked, her voice low and cold. She spat the word father. 'You told our sworn enemy, the man you marked for death yourself, about my neglected past with my so-called family? The family who threw me to the streets without a care in the world?'

'It was to prove a point!' Harry exclaimed, feeling guilty now along with his previous confusion. He never let himself break his gaze from Ginny's, which was boring into his. 'He seemed genuinely surprised when I told him what Weasley did to you – to us. I'm good at reading people, Ginny. I can always tell when someone was lying. The trick is, Dumbledore is such a master manipulator of odds, as well as Occlumens, that he can easily pretend his way through, and I'd never know.

'Besides, when I had told him, I half-thought he knew already.'

Ginny nodded, still angry, though not at Harry. Her hand brushed the Stone in her pocket, and she grasped it, revelling in the pain that the sharp edges brought from being clenched.

Harry seemed to see this. 'Try not to bleed on it, Ginny.' His green eyes wandered around the room, taking in every aspect. 'It's strange, don't you find? There was a time when we were able to live on the run together, never once caring what happened in the outside world, the real world. Now we're looking over our shoulder at every turn, and planning on how to rid the world of both leaders, the leaders of each side of the war, to which we are nothing more than renegades.'

'I know,' said Ginny wearily, bringing both hands to rest on the table; Harry thought he saw a small trickle of blood on the palm, but disregarded it. 'When all of this is over, we'll leave Britain in whatever state it's in. We're not doing this for anybody but ourselves. We're doing this to save our lives and preserve our freedom. If the Ministry was to ever catch us, we'd be in Azkaban faster than blinking.'

'Somehow I don't think so,' said Harry quietly. 'Somehow I'd think the Order would want us to be kept prisoner under their constant watch, and Azkaban doesn't provide that. Indeed, we'd be safer in Azkaban, even with the Dementors that remain there. Most are gone, but not all. Our Occlumency blocks the worst of their evil powers.'

'Well, they did before,' Ginny admitted, remembering their brief state of captivity in the base of the Order of the Phoenix. They had been physically restrained for a few days, though their years of training had ensured that their movements were not dulled by the bindings. 'I wasn't a huge fan of their hospitality, but Remus was kind enough, and Severus only too much.'

'It was more than I expected from Severus,' said Harry. Ginny looked at him, surprised by his words. 'He didn't get along great with my father, and as such hates everything Potter, yet he is willing to put aside the fact that I am almost a carbon copy of James Potter to help me. He must see my mother in me, just as he said when we met him in person during captivity.'

He paused, twirling the wand he had stolen from Dumbledore around in his fingers.

'I sense something in this,' he said a few minutes later. He studied it carefully, taking in every detail of the jet-black wand. 'I feel power radiating from it. I don't like it, and yet I can't turn it away from me. This power ... Dumbledore has used it for years and years now, I think. The power would have corrupted him. Or helped to, anyway. I will not allow Dumbledore to use his wand as the sole excuse.'

He pocketed the wand.

'Well, it's mine now anyway. Once Disarmed, the wand changes allegiance to the new owner. This wand rightfully belongs to me. Dumbledore can keep that spare. He won't be around for much longer anyway.'

'You're really going to kill him?'

The question confused Harry.

'Of course I am,' he said slowly. 'After everything he's done to me, and then turns around expecting to rope me into his cause? I can never forgive him, Ginny, I've told you that so many times. The only reason I used that life-sapping curse I put on him was because I want him to suffer before I murder him. I probably could have killed him then and there, but I wanted to torture him, and why waste a Cruciatus? I'm not a fan of that curse anyway.'

He smiled.

'Being an heir of a founder proves very useful in the long run.'

'You mean Gryffindor?' Ginny asked, forgetting that they had had this conversation many times as well.

'Yes,' said Harry impatiently; he had discussed this with Ginny before. 'Part of the reason Voldemort and I are so powerful is because we're descended from founders of Hogwarts. They were, after all, the most powerful wizards and witches of their time. It's only fitting that Voldemort and I are as well. Voldemort may be a shade more powerful, but I am a shade faster.'

'And that's why you were able to outmatch Dumbledore in that wizard's duel.'

Harry nodded. 'Yes.'

'So why are we running from them if you're more powerful than Dumbledore?' she asked.

Harry smiled, though it resembled a grimace. 'For two reasons,' he said calmly.

'Those reasons being?'

'One, because we still have to destroy the six Horcruxes,' Harry replied, and Ginny nodded. 'Two, because Dumbledore knows my weaknesses as well as my strengths, and that is how he found us in the first place. Three, because I refuse to be manipulated into the cause of another. Four, because I need to plan the deaths of the two I wish to murder within the Order of the Phoenix –'

'Two?' interrupted Ginny. 'Wasn't it just Dumbledore?'

'Oh, no,' said Harry with a slight sneer; he looked menacing. 'No, I plan on killing a second person within the Order. Don't worry, it isn't a Weasley.' Ginny grinned. 'The man will die for ambushing us twice now.'

'Who is it?' Ginny asked, though she thought she knew the answer.

'Alastor Moody.'

* * *

'Thank you all for coming,' rang the voice of Albus Dumbledore, his one good eye taking in everybody who had assembled in a small, private hall within the Headmaster's office. 'First, we must remember that we do not have spies within Lord Voldemort's ranks any longer. Severus Snape, as you all know, is no longer among us, but chose to side with the renegade we now know to be Harry Potter. Remus Lupin has left for the same reason.'

'Remarkable, how a Potter is proving to be one of our most dangerous enemies,' said Arthur Weasley sadly, remembering Harry as a baby. 'Molly and I were good friends with Lily and James ... we can still remember Harry's birth and first birthday ...' He broke off. Molly Weasley, who was sitting beside her husband, said nothing; she had tears in her eyes, a silent mourning.

'Yes,' said Alastor Moody, 'and now the boy is eighteen years old and proving to be just as cold and threatening as You-Know-Who.' Aberforth snorted, but Moody ignored him. 'The boy you knew and loved is gone. He's turned himself into a demon in human flesh, and worst of all, he corrpted a young girl – your own daughter! – into the same thing.'

'Ah,' said Dumbledore, folding his hands together on the table and staring at everyone through his good eye. 'Yes. The thing is, I have found out the truth of why Ginevra Weasley follows Harry, and why she has a deep-seated hatred of her true family.'

Every eye turned to Dumbledore.

'What happened to my daughter?' screeched Mrs Weasley.

'What did you learn, Dumbledore?' asked Bill Weasley, his long hair messed up and his face contorted with sadness.

Dumbledore hesitated, but only for a second.

'The reason your daughter hates you, Arthur and Molly, is because she believes – and so does Harry – that you deliberately threw her to the streets.'

A pin drop could be heard in the silence. Even Aberforth had nothing snippy to say.

'Ginny – she – what?' Mrs Weasley spluttered.

'She believes that your husband, Arthur, left her to die in the streets.'

'But how? Why?' Mrs Weasley's confusion was swiftly turning into hysteria. 'We treated Ginny like any good parent would! Why would she think we'd betray her feelings and emotions like that? How could she?'

Dumbledore sighed. He was coming up to the hardest part.

'Recently, I confronted Harry Potter again,' he began, and the room faced him again, surprised at this. 'He escaped again, but not before telling me the real reason why he despises our Order, and myself.' His voice wavered slightly, but when he spoke again, he spoke steadily. 'The Dursleys tortured Harry while he was under their "care". I think you all know this.' More nods. 'When Harry fled, he was on his own for two years. He found the Leaky Cauldron, and Diagon Alley, completely by accident. He is a complete natural at magical progress, just like Tom Riddle was. When he found Ginevra in the hands of two Muggles, trussed and helpess, a combination of pure magical power and pure rage let him overpower the two armed Muggles and save Ginny.

'A year later, they found Arthur.'

'What?' Mr Weasley barked out. 'I haven't seen Ginny since she was seven years old! I'd remember seeing my daughter!'

'I am not accusing you, Arthur,' said Dumbledore calmly, seeing the desperation within the man. 'I am merely speaking through Harry's views. He claims to have met you at the age of nine. He further claims that you sneered at the sight of him and Ginevra, while throwing insults and degrading comments to your daughter, who was apparently clinging to your legs.' He paused, letting the sorrowful man take this in. 'He then claims that you disinherited your daughter as he walked away with her in tow, simply because she left with him.'

Dumbledore peered at Arthur through the one eye he could see with.

'I don't think you did, though, Arthur. I know you better than that, my boy.'

Mr Weasley, for his part, looked devastated.

'It is not easy, I know.'

'It's not that,' Mr Weasley replied. 'I can think rationally about it. What gets me is that I don't remember anyone ever getting near enough to me to obtain something to use the Polyjuice Potion on me. I'd have thought that I would remember something like that.'

'Ah, but you see,' said Dumbledore solemnly, 'I don't think it was Polyjuice.'

More silence.

'Excuse me?' whispered Mr Weasley. 'You accuse me?'

'You misunderstand me,' Dumbledore said quickly. 'Arthur, I don't blame you in the slightest for what happened, as I have said. However, I have no doubts that you were there when it happened, when the event that banished your daughter from your family took place.'

'What are you on about, Albus?' Molly Weasley screeched.

'Let me explain. See, when Harry told me about the man, he said that Arthur was staring at them – _through hazel eyes._'

Yet more silence ensued.

'Then you're saying that Arthur ... was under the Imperius Curse?' growled Moody.

'Precisely,' replied Dumbledore.

'But how? Who?'

'That remains the question, doesn't it?' said Dumbledore quietly. 'Who indeed ...'

'Could it have been a Death Eater?' Emmeline Vance asked.

'I doubt it,' was Dumbledore's reply.

'But why?'

'Until recently, Lord Voldemort did not have any idea that Harry Potter was still alive,' Dumbledore explained. 'He thought that Harry was long gone. Three years later, Harry finds an Imperius-inflicted Arthur. It couldn't have been Voldemort, it couldn't have been a Death Eater, so the logical assumption is that it was a traitor to the Light outside of both ideas.'

'A traitor ... in the Order?' Vance exclaimed.

'It is possible,' Dumbledore said regretfully. 'It has been done before. I believe you all remember Peter Pettigrew.'

Dark looks followed these words.

'I shall take that as a yes,' said a frowning Dumbledore, and he spread his arms. 'But let us stray back to my original point. Mr Potter and Miss Weasley are under the impression that the Light – that is to say, us – has shown nothing but lack of mercy towards them. In some cases, they are correct. They are, Alastor,' Albus said pointedly to Moody, who had snorted, 'in fact, in a lot of cases they are. I did not give Harry the proper attention that I could have given him while he was with his relatives, the late Dursleys, and therefore failed to realize that those Muggles did nothing but torture him in ways that make the Cruciatus Curse seem humane. For this reason alone, I find it hard to blame him for killing his own relatives – he certainly had the incentive. But as to why he killed his uncle's sister, who is not a blood relative, is beyond me. Perhaps she helped torture him, perhaps she was merely caught in his insane desire for revenge.

'Then there is Miss Weasley, whose reasons for revenge against the Weasley family are wrong, and yet right. She only sees them as people who would rather she be dead in the streets, because of what "Arthur" told her.' Mrs Weasley broke down into tears at these words. Dumbledore's voice did not soften, but he did allow a trace of sadness to break through. 'She has a deep-seated hatred for her family, and as such, is likely to never return home in her current state.'

His good eye seemed to glow with radiance now. The surrounding group seemed to draw closer.

'We need to get them back,' said Dumbledore. 'If we have to, we shall use force, but we must try to avoid that as much as possible. We want them back on as good terms as we can under the present conditions. As you all know, Harry placed me under a curse that, even as we speak, is tearing my life force away. I have maybe six months to live. Before I die, however, I want Harry to know the truth of his life, the truth that only I can share with him, as it involves Voldemort.'

'What truth, Albus?' asked Kingsley Shacklebolt.

'I cannot speak the whole, but I can give parts of it,' Dumbledore said quietly. 'To make a long, dull story exceptionally shorter, Harry and Lord Voldemort are connected in ways that no two wizards or witches have ever been connected. You see, there was a scar upon Harry's forehead when he survived that Hallowe'en night nearly eighteen years ago. It grants Harry an indirect connection with Lord Voldemort's mind. As he has only met Lord Voldemort twice in his life, the connection is not strong, but over time it will surely grow, giving him access to Voldemort's mind and thoughts, and having the same in vice-versa; giving Voldemort access to his own mind.

'I suspect that because of this connection, Harry can speak Parseltongue, and perhaps it is also how he is so strong. As far as I am aware, he is a direct descendent of Godric Gryffindor. It is what gives him such a natural grasp of magic in general. Voldemort, as a child, found the same control of magic as a descendent of Salazar Slytherin. As heirs, they have powers any other wizard knows nothing of. What's worse is that the heirs of Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw are long passed on. The lines ended with those individuals.

'So, as you can tell, Harry and Voldemort, as heirs, have powers no average wizard and witch will ever have. It is this that allowed Voldemort to elude me for so long, and Harry to overpower me in a one-on-one duel with apparent ease.'

The silence that followed was longer than ever before.

'So, in short,' said Mad-Eye Moody, 'we can't beat them? Only one can beat the other?'

'I'm afraid so,' was Dumbledore's reply. 'However, I have a plan on catching Harry again. If it works, we might be able to make him see the light, and help us to defeat Voldemort for good.'

'What is this plan?' Minerva McGonagall asked.

'I am ashamed to say it, but it involves using the Weasleys as bait. More specifically, Arthur Weasley.'

'What do you hope to achieve, Albus?' posed Mr Weasley, who had paled a bit at the mention of being used to catch the renegades.

'We shall lure Ginevra to us with you, Arthur,' said Dumbledore, his good eye twinkling a bit, 'and through her, we shall retrieve Harry.'

'Are you mad?' Bill Weasley barked. 'That would cause them to hate us more!'

'Possibly,' said Dumbledore, 'but it is our only option. There is no other way to find them, as I know Harry will make sure we cannot find them again.'

'And what if Ginny kills Arthur before we can follow through on the plan?' posed Amelia Bones. 'She is, after all, not far below strength from Harry, and certainly stronger than her father.'

'I will have guards in hiding in the place where Mr Weasley waits for his daughter,' replied Dumbledore. 'He will not be unprotected, as I know how strong Ginevra is – possibly stronger than any Death Eater due to training with Harry for years. Now, we must plan this out.'

'I'm in, Albus,' said Mr Weasley, his face set, his expression determined.

'Thank you, Arthur,' said Dumbledore sincerely. 'Now we must find a location and a way of letting it slip to our pair of friends, without letting Cornelius or Lord Voldemort in on it ...'

* * *

Author's Note: Whew. That one took me a long time to do. About halfway in to the chapter I suffered from mad writer's block, and it took a month to figure out how to get around it. Then there was the rest, such as the Order meeting and Harry and Ginny's chat. I'm very, truly sorry for the amount of time I took with this one. Work has been hectic, there's been a lot of social events (birthdays, ceemonies, etc) and my time has basically been taken up by everything. As it stands, I doubt I can promise when the next chapter will come. Preferably within three weeks, but I cannot say for sure – possibly more than a month. I have also changed my mind on length. You can expect to see a lot more chapters from here. Maybe twenty or so, or more.

So, thank you for your immense patience, and I will try to get the next update in soon. God bless, and farewell.

- G. Murk


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